


The Vampire & the Virago

by alpha_huntress



Series: Damned Divine [1]
Category: Valkyrie Profile 2: Silmeria, Valkyrie Profile Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Rebirth, Reincarnation, Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-04 10:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12167340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpha_huntress/pseuds/alpha_huntress
Summary: For the unforgivable offense of her defiance, she was placed in an eternal stasis, stripped of divinity and memory. Damned to be reborn anew in every life as a thrall to the gods until one comes ready to return her to her rightful self whatever the cost!





	1. One Error Begets Another

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is considered canon and valid for all future and forthcoming chapters. I do NOT own Valkyrie Profile (as much as I wish I did) that honor belongs to Tri Ace and Square Enix.
> 
> A/N: What would happen if Alicia refused to abandon Dipan? If Lezard came but never ascended to Asgard and overthrew Odin? What would happen to Odin gained victory over Dipan, completely quashed the remnants of Silmeria's rebellion, and lived to reign as a supreme tyrant? These are all things that went through my mind as I crafted this story so it is not incorrect to say that this is an alternate ending to Valkyrie Profile 2: Silmeria. I will outline the pairings that WILL be seen in this fic:
> 
> Brahms and Silmeria (!)
> 
> Rufus and Alicia (!)
> 
> Lezard and Lenneth (?)

" _We're not taking her with us?"_

" _Give them until nightfall. They can lick their wounds in the meantime."_

" _Come! Alicia, we must go….NOW."_

Silmeria's clear decisive tone ran within her consciousness, piercing the veil of her sorrow but beneath it, to her own surprise, was resistance and anger.

_-Father…-_

Living for vengeance seemed like such a petty thing to live for but she could not bring herself to peace. Her father, Barbarossa, he had been guilty but he'd been a good man. She could feel it. Those last moments between them, between father and daughter, had been one in which understanding was forged. The only sin he'd committed he shared with Silmeria: to learn that which was forbidden and to act upon it in rebellion. Even now she knew Silmeria's words, her actions were to spare her from sharing the fate of her Father and Mother but she couldn't stand down.

_-I am Princess Alicia of Dipan-_

She had been born into a privileged status and with that privilege came responsibility to the people. A responsibility her father had tried and failed to uphold and one she had neglected. Dallas, before disappearing, had cleared the air of any remnant misunderstandings. Her father had done it for her and for Dipan. Her father had been a man torn between his love and honor; his love for her and his obligation, his duties as king. Although she knew his soul would for centuries be as restless as the souls within the Guardian Beast in the Royal Underground Path Alicia couldn't only wish peace upon her father. She might not be able to bring down the gods but she'd protect the people, her father's only legacy would not result in disgrace.

" _If you don't flee you'll become a martyr to your people, you will executed with him if you fruitlessly resist! Our stand, our actions; they must count but they cannot do so here and now is not the time."_

"Silmeria, I value you, more than you can know but this is my home and even if I must give up my life, this is my destiny. I will protect Dipan whether I am ready or not because I must. That is what I feel inside my heart, whether it is right or wrong…it is the tenet which shall guide me. I will not be alone, I have you and Dylan and Rufus."

" _All the more reason not to waste their lives and yours here!"_

Silmeria's words cut to the quick making the princess unsure if her actions were truly made in folly but the people already thought her dead, how much longer before she'd be forgotten in entirety? No, she'd succeed her father and make sure the people saw her father and the gods for what they were.

The only question she had to ask herself was what the right path to take was. The only thing she was sure of was protecting the citizens without further antagonizing the gods. However, with Silmeria within her she didn't know if it was truly possible.

_-We shall have to take everything one day at a time starting with Hrist's assault.-_

Alicia turned to Rufus and Dylan who both surveyed her, waiting for her response, "Alright, here is what we're going to do…"

* * *

As a goddess and Valkyrie she didn't need the time, the delay yet she had returned to Valhalla. If she'd been absolute she would've made Silmeria answer to Odin. Just more evidence of the fact she had to guard her to the soft sensibilities of mortals. It hadn't been for Silmeria that she had pulled back but rather to give Alicia, the princess and human host of Silmeria, time to steel herself for a fate that was fast approaching. The fact that she knew the very reason meant she should be on guard against it, to prevent such weaknesses, if she had been truly loyal to Odin she would've never allowed her time as Leone to soften her. She was a loyal agent of the divines and delaying their judgment was a poor choice on her part, an ill wrought decision that undermined her loyalty to Lord Odin. Further failure on her part was unacceptable in the eyes of Lord Odin, Lady Freya, and most importantly herself. Therefore Alicia would not survive their next encounter and Silmeria, she would return!

Hrist had left Arngrim to ready the preparations for their return to Midgard. In the meantime she'd been summoned by Lord Odin. Save for her amber eyes the mute grandeur of Valhalla's inner passages were abandoned and unappreciated. Her hollow steps echoed through the empty hallways as she swiftly made her way to the throne room. In response to her approach the arched doors opened. In the distance she saw Freya quietly speaking with Lord Odin. Immediately the eldest Valkyrie stayed her steps, standing upright where she was so as not to disrupt or overhear their conversation.

"Approach, Hrist!" Freya turned her head into her direction, her voice rising over the distance as their hushed tones came to an end. No further speaking took place in the time she crossed the expanse until she once again came to a standstill, preparing to kneel before Odin, "Stop, remain standing! Why did you return?"

The curt tone of the second rank goddess thrust her on the defensive, making her only able to offer speechless silence as she tried to rationalize her lapse of good judgment. It was a silence she felt the need to hastily break, as if to justify herself. In hindsight, even though it did her not good in this instance, Hrist knew she shouldn't have left Dipan without Silmeria but she had.

Odin was seated with a single reliable hand resting on Gungnir's hilt and the other propping up his chin, "Failures will not be tolerated."

Odin's words had saved her from having to explain her irrational behavior but from Freya's words she knew that they had reason to doubt her. A doubt she could not afford to feed, Odin's tone made it known and clear that he'd not accept a repeat of Silmeria's defiance.

_There wouldn't be._

Her amber eyes hardened, her vocalized response mirroring it, "There will be none. The Einherjar are rested after our last assault. I am ready to move out."

"That is good for it is necessary that Dipan not be allowed to recover. Even now they stir, rallying them behind an individual, readying themselves for a fight. You shall be our answer."

"The mages?" she said scornfully, easily placing them in that role. It was like those undead fiends to grasp and lust for the power of a fallen kingdom of fools.

The response Odin delivered as he flicked his gaze upon her was more than she expected, "Silmeria."

* * *

They were only promised until nightfall and Alicia tried not to waste her time, Silmeria had to give her that much. She might not be a strong personality but she knew how to use those around her, how to use her web of support to great advantage. If they were victorious this evening it would be the beginning of a long campaign but if successful the end result would be worth it for she was sure that Alicia would one day be a great Queen. The young princess had the benefit of her great ancestors the Warrior Princess Celes, who advised her on the nature of defending the castle, and Queen Phyress who helped her secure her legitimacy as heiress.

Since defending Dipan was a greater goal to her than securing the throne from other members of the nobility she prioritized her actions accordingly. Alicia and Celes had questioned the surviving soldiers extensively on how the Valkyrie Hrist had succeeded in her first attack so they could defend effectively against the second. She also solidified the base of their support, using Phyress' political prowess to aid her in convincing the nobility to support her hastily made resistance. Even if the nobility wouldn't acknowledge her legitimacy they were all too eager to rally behind the individual defending their sorry hides.

The only thing Silmeria and Alicia agreed not to touch on was the subject of what would happen if they lost. It was something that didn't elude the young princess since the latter confessed, to Dylan, that she worried about the impact on the people. Dylan had been a steadfast companion to both her and Alicia but Silmeria couldn't, even on the eve of such an attack, confide the nature of whom he safeguarded. Though the knowledge was a double-edged sword at this point in time it was unnecessary to confide information of that nature to her human host, it would be more of a detriment to Alicia if she consorted with the undead. Better that she be as naïve as the gods and believe that Brahms, Lord of the Undead, was dead. The Valkyrie wondered just how much longer would that be, like the rest of her Einherjar, she knew his soul miraculously through Dylan survived transmigration because of his dormant state but one day she was sure he would awaken and that concerned the Valkyrie. The nature of her relationship was difficult, forbidden and never should've been but despite all odds he had become her greatest ally, a strong bastion she could rely on and an unexpected friend to the end. The conflict within was this; her silence was what protected him however it could also harm Alicia. Inaction on her part would have to end soon and in the very least Alicia would have to truly open her eyes to the reality of the future she chose and the role she was stepping into.

* * *

The sun had not quite set yet but Alicia could not get the feeling of unease to depart, Hrist had said 'until nighfall' did that mean dark? When did the goddess consider the time enough and attack? They had been given time to prepare but was it enough.

"You've done all you can, that is the best you can do, don't worry about it," as usual Rufus made sense.

"Oh…I know but," she paused, "What will happen if despite everything we've done, that everything goes wrong?"

"It won't."

"I can't accept that Rufus. In one's days time I've taken a big step, bigger than any I've taken in my life and the consequences that could result from my actions won't affect me alone," she folded her fingers and nervously tapped them, it was a habit she took to when timid and nervous, "I…I have a favor to ask of you. I have made the people ready themselves for the worse case, if it comes to that. Will you and Dylan, will you lead them out of here? Away from Dipan? Away from the wrath of the gods?"

Rufus gazed at her and from one look of her intense eyes he knew he couldn't say no. Silmeria's intensity was purely from her surety, she knew what was fair and she could inspire others to follow her solely based on the position or her cause. Alicia's intensity was motivated by her sincerity, even if failure could be an option she was the type you'd follow because your time would not be wasted or your life lost in vain. Long ago he had followed this unprepared Princess because he had been promised to be compensated by Silmeria but now he followed solely because of Alicia, because of who she was and who'd she become in the future, reward be damned.

"Alright but I don't think we'll need to worry about this. That damn Valkyrie won't know what hit her after what you've done all day."

"Right!"

"Your Majesty, Alicia," Lezard surveyed her, "You should be within, you are compromised when you stand on the outer wall like this."

Alicia flushed, "Oh yes."

* * *

Much had changed in a day's time, more than she had thought possible for the likes of mere mortals. She was a woman of her word and she did not push for the attack until, as promised, nightfall. Even though she was a goddess she was not inclined to be foolish or idle the day away. Thus she released her Einherjar to blend in amongst the populace. There were many foolish rumors however when the fact was gleaned from the fiction there was also much to learn. Many of them said that the long dead Princess of Dipan had returned to lead them to victory, traversing the boundaries of the death and time, to assume the mantle of Warrior Queen and save them all. The Princess HAD returned although she had never been dead to begin with, not YET and it was to be debated whether her actions would save them indeed.

_Silmeria…you desperate fool…_

That she would use such a broken girl in such a fruitless, defiant stand. Silmeria's need to resist the tides of her own fate would be the doom her and Alicia both.

"It is time."

* * *

" _Are you ready? We will only have one chance at this. If Hrist is defeated than we will be on a better footing however the victory will be temporary at best. Odin will send Hrist again or possibly Lenneth."_

_-"Lenneth?"-_

" _My other sister, another goddess, another Valkyrie. Do not allow yourself to be distracted, keep your mind on the fight. She comes!"_

The sudden urgency in Silmeria's tone snapped her into readiness. Her first instinct was to reach for the hilt of her sword but she heard an overhead crash accompanied by blinding light. Her mortal eyes were slow to adjust but she knew it was Hrist. Before her vision had recovered she felt her hand tighten on the hilt of her blade drawing it out of the sheath enough to parry a blow that was coming at her side from behind. Hrist was there pushing all her strength against the blade trying to break her guard but Silmeria held fast to it.

_-"Thank you Silmeria. I will take things from here."-_

She pushed off Hrist and spun, her blade spinning around her in an arc that protected her while angling towards Hrist's midriff. The latter jumped back, partially disappearing only to gaze at her as if in confusion, as if realizing just who was there.

_-That is right! Alicia, not Silmeria!-_

The goddess' shock was short lived and she charged, rushing for the human princess. When it came to a contest of strength the goddess would win, Silmeria had always stayed her hand because of that fact – to protect her. However Lezard had alluded to her that the gods were not as mighty as one might think and that mortals could use objects and their very surroundings to even the odds if they were resourceful enough. Alicia rapidly lunged up the stairway so she could use the height to her advantage to gain speed while always being sure to keep Hrist in her peripheral vision, being sure to notice her closing the distance between them. The goddess' blade was extended in an upward thrust, to impale but moments before her blade could land Alicia used her blade to cut her belt. The action freed her of the weight at her side, allowing her to grab her metallic sheath so she could use it to block Hrist's all-or-nothing stab. Again her blade swiped, dancing around her in a deadly arc for the goddess from behind. The blow hit, sweeping right though Hrist's midriff from behind, it did not rend her apart but from how the goddess hunched over in mute shock she was obviously astonished.

Perhaps it was shock from her success or, more likely, regret. It was not easy to see Hrist suffer for either herself or Silmeria. Leone had been like a sister to the Princess of Dipan. Even Silmeria stayed her hand, Alicia realizing that Hrist's time as Leone was the first time the youngest Valkyrie had been able to get to know her sister through the pretense of their forced fighting. The dual acts of the Dragon Orb's theft and her father's execution had been the bitterest form of betrayal. The deception had been harsh to both of them, even harder for her to forgive since she hadn't known. After all the 'accursed' Valkyrie had done to her and to Dipan she should have hated Hrist but she couldn't. Nothing could change what had happened and what the human girl had felt for the Valkyrie even if it had all been a disguise, a lie to the eldest goddess of fate.

Even though they could've likely fit in a suitable finish, both the youngest Valkyrie and her human host waited for Hrist Valkyrie to rise. To finish the fight in any other fashion was dishonorable, something low she couldn't bring herself to do. Behind her she heard the shuffle of many feet and her attention shifted, her hand tightening one more on her blade to see the forms of Dylan, Lezard, and Rufus.

"Behind you!" Dylan barked as she heard the scrape of the sword against stone, the desperate counterattack resulting in sparks that ignited against the red carpet.

Lezard eyed the flames and threw out his hand, without hesitation his spell absorbed the budding flame allowing it to feed the flames of his own magic, "Fire Storm!"

Alicia recovered, panting slightly from the scare but she extended her blade in challenge while the others fell into place behind her. The careful planning on her part, it had all worked out in the end. She and everyone else had done their part. She had lasted against the goddess, Silmeria's Einherjar had defended against Hrist's, and the others – Rufus, Dylan, Lezard, they were all here and together she knew they would be able to defeat Hrist.

"It is over Hrist! Withdraw from Dipan! The citizens are innocent; there is no honor, no reason to torment those who are already on their knees!"

"Silence, mortal! Your arrogance is unmatched, making demands of the gods!"

"Then you leave US no choice," Silmeria's voice overlapped her own, the younger goddess' strength channeling through the human princess she charged towards Hrist.

* * *

The Valkyrie, she couldn't believe it, she could barely dare to believe that such a simple stratagem unwound her own. It was astounding enough in itself that Alicia, without Silmeria, could possibly inflict such blows upon her – a goddess of the sixth rank – a Valkyrie! The use of Dipan's soldiers with that of Silmeria's Einherjar had been able to hold off the likes of her own, so easily, or at least enough that those three could come to her aid. She couldn't let them finish her, she could not allow Silmeria and a HUMAN to wrest victory from her. Despite the wound she obtained her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword and she charged for Silmeria but the clash, the conflict between them never came.

As their blades where about to cross, a massive gale washed through the palace shattering all the stained glass windows and throwing everyone off their feet save for the mortal Princess. Trapped and suspended Silmeria could flee nowhere nor could any rise in time to prevent the lance that rained down with the authority of the heavens itself impaling its shaft mercilessly right through the mortal girl, cutting her down with an absurd and pathetic ease. The tremor continue to grow, pulsing through the ground until spherical runes surrounded the Princess. Even she could see the slackening of the princess' muscle, had it not been for the Sovereign's Rite freezing her in her stance the princess would have fallen, unable to support the weight of her dying body. Hrist could only stare, transfixed as Odin reclaimed Silmeria.

Silmeria inevitably fought but it was in vain and only resulted in allowing Alicia's body to crumple to its knees. The crown, the Princess' diadem, fell to the floor and she couldn't help but see its symbolism for what it was. With the death of Princess Alicia Dipan would fall into ruin, never to recover. Odin had, according to his will, denied her the hard won victory in spite of all her efforts. Before she could tear her eyes away she saw the human rip the spear out of her torso leaving the bloody arbalest on the cold stone. However her arms almost desperately supported the human as she turned to face Alicia. In that one moment, without the circlet and the radiant golden strands framing her face she saw not Alicia but her sister, Silmeria.

Despite her weakness Silmeria's eyes were intense, demanding her attention; she could not turn away from their depths. It was to her great surprise that Silmeria managed to make her plea to Hrist overheard over the rushing maelstrom of divine magic but it was heard, was delivered but not for the likes of herself.

_Save…Spare…Alicia…_

* * *

Gratitude, gratitude was what had stayed his hand so long, gratitude to the warrior Dylan for safeguarding his unworthy hide and to Silmeria, so that her actions to protect him had not been in vain. It was time for all that to come to an end for a long time Dylan had unconsciously drawn upon his gifts, drawn him out of his sleep, bringing him closer to Silmeria. The Sovereign's Rite, its repulsive and all too familiar aura, was an altogether effective lure. He could not stand by and allow Odin to retrieve Silmeria, to toy with her soul, bending to his demented whims. Not after all they had seen and discovered. Silmeria's dissent, her defiance was the only truth he knew, if Odin snuffed it out how much longer before the truth would it take for the truth to be discovered again? And acted on? How much longer would the mortals and undead of Midgard be oppressed to the whims of their beloved and benevolent 'gods'?

_And Silmeria…_

He couldn't allow her to be taken from him. His emotions, his feelings for her, they had always been known but never acted upon. He had always respected her enough not to jeopardize her cause, her crusade against Odin's wrongs. However it didn't change the facts. He loved her and whether she accepted him or not he would not let her go. Not without a fight and not to the likes of the All Father Odin!

_Sleep…Brother._

He pushed and Dylan gave way, their souls were never meant to exist side by side. Brahms could only finish what Dylan had started: their joint evolution as one entity, one individual. His soul had always been the stronger and thus it would be the dominant one, slipping into place over Dylan's like the shadow of an eclipse slipping over the moon except the fact it was permanent. Life, Dylan and Silmeria, they had given him a second chance at life. He would be a fool to live it in regret, without Silmeria.

For a moment he could only stand there as his crimson eyes adjusted to light and the dark of the room. He was undead and Dylan, he had not, thus it would take time for him, for his body to grow accustomed to the changes Brahms unholy soul wrought on his form. He flexed his claws and as he approached the magic circle he saw already Silmera's soul was drawn out. A mortal girl lay dying at the feet of the foul Valkyrie – the one they called Hrist. Silmeria rolled her eyes to see him as he laid his claws on the barrier of the magic, testing it. The first time he had fought this magic he had underestimated and nearly lost, to be said the only thing his interference had bought was to make the Rite malfunction. He would not be so ignorant, not this time, but he intended to duplicate the feat.

However the dark Valkyrie, she didn't give him the time, her gaze fixed on him as she charged, blade in hand. Behind him he heard magic and saw an arrow impale the Valkyrie right in the throat. For a mortal it would've been a grave enough wound to choke the breath of life out. For the likes of a goddess and Valkyrie it would be a minor inconvenience but it was enough to allow him to shatter the barrier. He reached for Silmeria but she slipped right through his fingers as he gave an unholy howl of rage. Only then he noticed the reason he'd been able to shatter the magic was because it was complete. Odin had succeeded.

* * *

The moment the foul magic had been shattered Rufus had fallen to the ground, cradling Alicia in his arms. Why had she deserved the likes of this? To be struck down in such a way? He felt her in his arms and realized that she was still somewhat warm, still BARELY alive. He cradled her close only to feel him dragged to his feet, by his clothing and forced out of the room, forced into a hasty retreat by someone probably Dylan if what came out of him could be CALLED that. Alicia shivered and he realized he was getting covered in her blood. She likely hadn't realized that in pulling out the spear she'd bleed to death, she had likely only wanted relief from the pain. He was barely aware of how long or where they were going only aware the other surrounded him, protecting him as he held her close.

_Don't die…don't leave me alone…don't die!_

* * *

In the aftermath of all that had happened her first impulse was to pursue the undead but even she realized the folly of that. She was in no shape, no prime to take down the likes of that one. However…

She bent down, her hands coming to rest on the diadem worn by Alicia. The dark battle maiden rose, her black wings extending from her back, only pausing to recall her Einherjar before she rose, ascending into the overcast of the sky.

* * *

"Rufus?"

"Alicia."

"I wished to be separated all my life but now that I am it's so lonely, so cold now that she is gone…Please remember your promise."

"What kind of person am I to lead your people away from their destroyed homes and lives?"

"Because I chose you for it, I believe you can do it and I hope, I hope you find your peace," he felt Alicia place her hand on his cheek and tilting her head weakly to his as if trying her best to embrace him, a warm smile on her lips.

"Don't go, don't leave!"

Rufus carried her, held her, trying to rush her to the Underground Path, to the healers amongst the refugees but before they got there she drew a last faint breath, the last bit of warmth slipping from her weak body.

* * *

For those who died a noble death their weapons usually acted as the medium, their weapons held their remnant thoughts, that which a Valkyrie used to materialize them, to restore to them life. For the likes of Alicia though the blade, although hers, was not that medium. She had been born a princess and died like a true queen; her crown was undoubtedly the object that contained the ability to manifest her soul.

She looked down on the half elf, keeping herself hidden so as not to alert him. Silmeria's wish would be granted, Alicia would be spared. She watched as the luminous soul rose high and she gathered it within. As she departed a single unnoticed pitch black feather fell upon the body.

* * *

Although Rufus was aware the others were with him he scooped up her frail body, carrying it away. He had to place her to rest, the rest accorded to one who was so innocent, so beautiful. She hadn't deserved this and his bitterness extended to every last person who had touched her, who had caused her pain. Alicia hadn't chosen it had been accorded to her, unjustly by the gods. He had always though his existence the worse of the ills they could prescribe to him but he would NEVER forgive them for the likes of this. He continued to carry her, looking for the perfect place to bring her for her eternal rest. He finally decided on a secluded glade where the moonlight cast a perfect glow on its center. This was the place, where the sun and moon would pay homage to her every day and every night. He placed his bow down and improvised some crude tools. He didn't even notice that the others followed him. The mage shifting huge quantities of dirt, helping him fashion a hollow in the ground. Finally he went to retrieve Alicia and before he placed her down he saw a clawed hand reach for a black feather, pulling the foul memento from her dead body, "Her soul…after her death it had to go somewhere, we can act on that and she can be recovered."

"What good will that be?"

"Sir Rufus, I know such things are beyond your knowledge but it is possible to create a vessel, to animate a vessel to act an anchor for an individual's soul, a soul that has already departed. He is right; this does not have to be the end for her…not yet."

"She can be recovered, so can Silmeria."

"I don't care about the likes of Silmeria!" he couldn't bit back his bitter tone; Silmeria had been the cause of all Alicia's pain and hardship in the end.

"Hmph, very well have it your way but you'll have a lot easier time of it with allies. You don't have to like us, only to stand us."

As much as he didn't want to admit it the words had a grain of truth that was hard to swallow but he stomached it nevertheless, "What do you have in mind?"

* * *

The ruler of the Aesir surveyed his hard won prize, for such a long time her defiance had been the undoing of his will. She had been an ever constant thorn in his side. As a father he was firm but occasionally fair. However after what she had done, intentionally repeating one series of transgressions one after another even he was not of limitless patience. He would not sacrifice the stability of the gods reign to save one rebellious daughter. No, she would not be forgiven, would not be pardoned. He would make an example of her, make others learn from her mistakes.

It had occurred to him keep her frozen throughout time, isolated, a prize to be looked upon by others for her failures. Such a fate seemed soft since she'd be oblivious to it, and none of her former allies on Midgard would learn a thing. His hand stroked over the fabric of her soul, feeling the pulsating warmth – her divinity. His gray eyes hardened, cold as stone, as his fingers peeled, stripping it away. Finally he knew the nature of the punishment he should dispense on his rebellious Valkyrie and this, this was only the beginning.


	2. Unholy Crusade

The Valkyrie Hrist was a predictable creature, very easy to bait into a confrontation. Especially when you happened to be…undead and it was all the more seductive a lure if you happened to be the Lord of the Undead, as in his case. In the years since Alicia had been taken they were careful in planning a snare for the dark Valkyrie. The trap was a simple – an ambush, one meant slay the dark Valkyrie and her Einherjar enough to sever Alicia's connection to the Valkyrie and send Hrist back into the abyss of dormancy that was Odin's keeping. His peripheral vision rolled over to his comrades, each one of them was as enigmatic as the other.

The first was a half-elf who was looking ahead, sporting a keen gaze, one that had always served him well in the past. Normally Rufus was rarely subtle but since the loss of Alicia he had been remote, taking extreme action only when it was required. Since the death of the Princess his sarcastic wit had not been the only aspect to take a back seat to the task at hand. The only thing to show that he was at the ready was the tense grip he had on his bow. With his elven senses Rufus was a lethal shot. Years ago, at the execution of Barbarossa the Valkyrie Hrist had caught his arrow in midair, since then Rufus had practiced to add an element of sheer surprise to his dead aim. This time things were likely to be….different.

His second companion was an altogether enigmatic mage. He knew little about Lezard, even less than the mage knew of him. He was NOT undead but the Vampire King couldn't be certain if he was mortal either. There was no way to tell how he'd spent decades with Rufus and him – both immortal, neither touched by the physical scars of passing time, without showing signs of age. Lezard however was the same as the day he'd first laid eyes on him. With orderly brown hair and spectacles that concealed brilliant amethyst eyes, eyes that hid the tell-tale stroke of a genius within their depths.

Lezard had, over the years, contributed quite a bit to this wayward endeavor in terms of sheer knowledge. His contribution included crafting the vessel awaiting Alicia's reclaimed soul. As the Lord of the Undead knowledge of the fallen arts were nothing new to him but Lezard seemed even more familiar with nuances of necromancy than even he could claim himself. The knowledge was enough of a difference to make the endeavor possible but he could not help but feel cautious. The less he knew about Lezard, the more dangerous he was no matter HOW amiable and cordial the mage seemed on the surface.

The subtle shuffle of metal against earth instantly drew his eyes forward. A single figure was approaching. In the darkness the Valkyrie's twisted black armor would have fooled any mortal but his senses, his sight was a great deal more accurate than that of a mere mortals. The smooth grate of metal against metal was heard as a blade was withdrawn from its sheath, the silver glimmering with a malicious and deadly radiance as if reflecting the intent of its owner. Their confrontation was fated, something neither of them was able to deny. Hrist would always hunt him because of the abomination of his flawed existence and he, the fate of Silmeria had assured that he would always meet Odin's will with brute rebellion. Neither of them could avoid the lure of contesting each other which is why they faced each other right now.

"I assume that since you have not fled you are prepared."

His knuckles flexed, tightening beneath the fists as if to prepare for an assault that could come from her at any time from the slightest provocation, to linger unprepared near the Dark Valkyrie was like dancing on the edge of a blade, "If you speak of dying, not a chance, you should know better than to ask that Hrist Valkyrie."

"Dipan has fallen; there is nothing to gain from making a stand here therefore I am led to assume you are seeking to fulfill a death wish."

"It should hardly fail to surprise you since it happens so often but you're wrong," they had much to gain if they could put her to sleep, wrest Alicia free of her fate as a slave of the gods, and maybe buy them time to save Silmeria before another Valkyrie walked upon Midgard to wrack havoc upon their pitiful yet precious opportunities. The idea that he'd seek absolution or oblivion was laughable when they all had so much to accomplish, to live for.

As he proclaimed her error she silkily ignored her oversight, extending her wings without gliding upon the air as she allowed her raven feather to fall, falling until they froze in midair as they materialized into entire beings. One of them was a female, a girl, one who should have been considered grown but wasn't. Alicia had changed, grew more accustomed to her blade but inside he could see that personally she had undergone little change of self, of personality. Her lips almost parted in surprise, her eyes flickering to meet his in innocent recognition, recognition of Dylan and perhaps of recognition of one who had been present, came into being at the very moment of her physical demise. He couldn't bring his eyes to greet hers, he wasn't Dylan - her loyal and beloved companion, part it was guilt. Guilt that he wasn't here for her, guilt that…

"Don't you recognize her? It's the girl you and Silmeria sacrificed for your forsaken cause."

"That's rich coming from the hag who killed her!" Brahms wanted to hiss, why had Rufus given away his position? He had desired Hrist to think he came to this challenge alone, devoid of company. Already Hrist's face realized the truth as she worked over the implications of what she faced, where there was one there had to be others and now the element of surprise was irrevocably lost. The sight of Alicia had made him make one stupid and costly mistake nevertheless they had to proceed even if the ambush was for naught. As if reading the wind and realizing this Lezard, of his own volition, came out of the shadows behind the Valkyrie, his hands raised, mere moments from letting loose a spell.

Seething in barely concealed anger, she raised her sword balancing the blade perfectly without allowing it to waver, "I saved her! Or I will have after this evening, once you are dead, once ALL of you are dead, she'll finally be able to let go and move on. Just as you did in life you hold her back!"

"To bring her into Odin's keeping….that is no salvation, merely another form of accursed slavery to the gods. Is that the same thing you use to rationalize Silmeria's fate? Tell me, how can a sister reputed to value loyalty above all else allow her loyalty to another to supersede that of her own blood, to allow her own beloved sister to be used and abused in such a fashion?"

"The mistake was Silmeria's, not Odin's! Her fate was of her making from the moment she chose her actions! She deserves what she has gotten."

A sigh came from the vampire lord, deep and weary over the state of her self-preserved…ignorance, "I see that our views still fail to meet eye to eye as we have this eve therefore," he crouched down into a defensive stance, "I have no more to say to you save with my fists."

The Valkyrie needed no excuse to bring her blade to bear against him in a furious assault; he had barely finished his words when her blade came up with a furious thrust suddenly out of nowhere. His crimson eyes were scarcely able to track it as he brought up his hands, attempting to catch the blade so he could wretch it out of her grip, in hopes of disarming her. His claws grasped thin air as the silver blade danced out of his range, Hrist switching the blade from one hand to the other in an instant.

That surprised him and had she chose to attack at that instant the tactic would have been fruitful in striking a blow, drawing first blood but she rapidly turned her blade swinging around her in a wide arc as she brought it to bear against his back. It was costly for he realized what she was doing before she had accomplished it, his hand slipped behind his back. The blade landed against his hand drawing blood from a deep cut that bloomed in the palm of his hand but his claws relentlessly, instantly grasped the blade holding it tightly. Ignoring the pain he pulled on it and brought the Valkyrie to him. With a sickening crunch his elbow delivered a blow to her midriff that made her armor sink inward and sending her falling to the ground a few lengths away. It wasn't likely to so much to hurt but if her armor became too tight against her figure it would restrict her movement. In triumph he had managed to keep his grip on her blade and threw it aside.

It was hardly sporting to deprive her of her weapon but knowing the Valkyrie she was a great deal more lethal if properly armed and he intended to be the victor that brought her to task, the one who brought her down…

* * *

Her feet was frozen in place, torn by whom she should support, what she should do. For Arngrim it had been a simple matter as a mercenary to adapt to the circumstances, he saw that his benefit lay with following Hrist, and through her – Odin. Even being separated from the others for years and years upon end wasn't enough to make her forget the time they had spent together and thus she struggled to find the nerve to attack them. Hrist had tried to convince her that Dylan was no longer himself but rather was a being known as Brahms, one of the vilest undead enemies to walk upon Midgard. As an Einherjar she knew that her path should be followed as prescribed but she had a feeling that he was not all bad, that their confrontation although not unexpected wasn't random, and part of her wondered if perhaps his victory would yield hidden benefit to her.

Her hand tightened on the hilt of her blade as she tried to focus on the battle at hand, once fighting started it was always difficult to focus through the fog of the conflict, weaponry, and combatants. To attack Brahms meant to interject herself between the Lord of the Undead and Hrist, a death sentence. However, she couldn't attack Rufus the idea repelled her, after all that had happened to him with all the misfortune in his future she couldn't bring him to his downfall by her own hands which left Lezard. The mage had been very powerful, very helpful at her side but attacking him was the best chance she had to affect any sort of change.

The mage was almost within reach but at the last moment he moved, his cloak whirling away, her blade missing him by inches and hitting an invisible shield suddenly with such force that she was pushed back. Arms instantly curled around her, Lezard nodded as if in acceptance, "Keep her out of the battle, it's difficult enough to aim without hitting one of our own."

That almost warmed her inside to know they considered her friend, not foe. It didn't stop her from trying to get free of the strong arms holding her, "Stop it, Alicia!"

The voice pleaded with her, almost begging her to stay out of the way, out of the crossfire. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw shadows darting out of the foliage. Arngrim peered around them, snarling out a reply, "Undead! Vampires!"

The vampires fell upon most of the Einherjar, stretching them thin. The sheer numbers were overwhelming and she realized why the half-elf was holding onto her outside of the carnage. He was an ally and by association she'd be left untouched if seen with him in his arms. One by one she noticed others flickering out of existence, a question she was afraid to ask forming at her lips, "They're…"

"Not dead, not dead, they have a Valkyrie to return to for now."

"What are you going to do to her?"

"Return her, cast her back where she came from," even for Rufus his voice sounded cold, dispassionate, as if he hated and begrudged the Valkyrie for some reason. Alicia wasn't sure if it was for the deception she played as Leone or for the fall of Dipan or her own death or even just his hatred of the gods who played with his future. She supposed all of them were good reasons to despise Hrist Valkyrie.

A few foolish vampires got cocky, wanting to try their hands at bigger fish, better pickings if you could call Hrist Valkyrie anyone's prey, "Hrist! Behind you!" she cried out before she could restrain herself. Alicia wasn't sure whose side she was on or if she was even on a side anymore. Nevertheless she didn't hate Hrist any more than she'd be able to ever hate Rufus or Lezard. It took her a moment to realize she couldn't say the same about Brahms, he wasn't Dylan and she didn't know him well enough but she didn't think she'd hate him.

Everybody served a purpose; those overconfident vampires distracted the Battle Maiden from her primary antagonist. As she evaded them her helmet fell free as she summoned her lance and spearing one and the slashing the other. Hrist used the slash to give her momentum to turn and face Brahms, with weapon. No longer was she reduced to hand to hand fighting but the lapse had been enough for her to lose sight of the vampire lord. He ducked under the swing, the slash missing him but a hard back hand made the spear fall away, disarming her a second time. He was close, ducking had not only been a way to avoid a blow but also put them deadly close. His arms caught the Valkyrie's arms, crushing them to where her armor crushed inward further compromising her ability to move. He used the moment of surprise to grind her against the back of a tree throwing his weight to great effect in pinning her entirely. His mouth opened to reveal fangs, mere moments before he allow them to sink into her throat, tearing the skin with ravaging strokes.

Alicia's eyes widened, they were riveted upon the scene but suddenly someone was there, their bulk covering the view, "Don't look!" but it was too late, she'd seen it, seen everything, "Alicia, that's NOT Dylan."

No, she thought grimly, that was someone entirely different, he was utterly ruthless in shutting Hrist down. Rufus released her while she was still standing numbly. Hrist had been thrown down upon the ground. Her throat marred with bloody gouges to where she struggled to speak around a throat too damaged to heal in an instant. Lezard held a spell at the ready, Rufus had an arrow nocked and pointed at Hrist. Her armor was so damaged from the physical confrontation with Brahms that it likely wasn't going to stand up strong to even an arrow, "I won't miss at this distance," Rufus remarked with surety.

"Release the both of them, Hrist. Or I'll finish what I started! We'll send you back to Valhalla and take these two by force."

"If I go back to Valhalla then they'll go with me, Valkyrie are not to be idly threatened or coerced into obedience by the likes of YOU!" she summoned her spear and swung it at the Vampire Lord, he was considered to be the biggest threat to her but it was a wasted effort. Her loss was his gain, her weakness had become his strength when he fed off her. Alicia could not even keep track of the movement between him dancing out of the reach of her spear then at Hrist's side knocking her down and plunging his wrist through armor, flesh, and bone. If she'd been a mortal it would've killed but even Hrist couldn't shrugs off damage of that magnitude.

Alicia instantly felt like her very body was beginning to wilt and fade. First she struggled to breathe, the next moment she lost muscle control, her feet falling beneath her. She reached out to touch Rufus and was alarmed to realize, to see her hand drift through him where she laid beside his feet. Her body was breaking down into bright particles of ether.

"Lezard!" the authoritative bark came from Dylan's mouth, Dylan's voice but not his voice.

"Right," Lezard's answer was the last thing she heard, hearing was lost next. Her body was losing function because Hrist was not there to maintain it. Her eyes flickered over to Arngrim who was drifting away in a pale shroud of ether, same as her. The last thing to depart was her vision, fading into blackness, leaving her no awareness of the world around her or if she was even still existing. Fading…fading…nothingness…nothing at all.

* * *

"Damn, she had to complicate things," Rufus swore gazing down at the crystal quietly sheltered in Lezard's gloved hand. The bright beautiful soul shimmered beneath the clear surface. If only the Valkyrie had released Arngrim and Alicia then the two of them would be here in their own flesh. Instead Lezard had only been able to secure Alicia's soul and Arngrim likely rejoined Hrist.

"It doesn't matter; we have what we want and we have the means to bring her back."

Rufus bristled, after the fighting display between Brahms and the Valkyrie few would try to test their luck by challenging the Vampire Lord but his words were brusque, almost indifferent, "Did you ever think she'd rather come back in her own body than reborn by binding herself to a crafted vessel made out of the dead and departed?"

"I should be able to make the body in her likeness, I'm fairly confident in my abilities even if the magic is relatively…new to me."

"That is not the point, it's the fact that he acts as though possessing no personal interest in Alicia's fate or how she'll feel about it in the end."

The Vampire Lord looked uncomfortable, "I do care," he said slowly, "None should have had to suffer like she did for her country especially when the only thing they did wrong was defy limits imposed by tyrants. We don't have time to waste here, we need to move on. We've sent a message to Odin when we sent Hrist bleeding at his feet. He never been one to take long in responding to a challenge."

Rufus placed his hand on his hips as if wanting to press the subject further but deciding better of it before turning to face Lezard, "Lezard?"

"I am pretty sure I still have enough energy to teleport us back. Brahms, if you'd gather your…people," he decided upon using a word like that to avoid causing offense at the use of words like 'race' or 'creatures'. They were not humans but now was not the time that any of the three wanted to be at each other's throats while they challenged the Lord of Creation. If you were going to challenge Odin you had to stand together and strong if you wanted a chance of survival, let alone success.

* * *

The vampires had sustained most of the causalities, acting as fodder. The two that had distracted Hrist at the critical moment were both instantly killed by the Valkyrie's swift blows. Their bodies were recovered but later they'd be left topside to burn in sunlight. The victory gained was worth the sacrifice, Brahms decided. He hadn't been lying when he said he had personal interest in seeing Alicia freed of the Valkyrie's influence and restored to the group as a whole. He was anticipating that she'd want to find Silmeria just as badly as he did, at least he was hoping for a kindred spirit. Alicia might act as a restorative catalyst for Silmeria's memory assuming they got her back to begin with…

This mission was the first success in a long string of failures to regain ground lost. Brahms had been very successful in discovering Silmeria's guise through each successive reincarnation but fate had not been so kind. Silmeria was reborn and every time he got at all close to her, her mortal host would suffer anything from mysterious accidents to explicit assassinations all in an effort to keep him at bay. Every death was a blow that hit him deeply; it not only reset the cycle of her reincarnation but killed an innocent being devoid of any wrongdoing besides being a defiant goddess or better yet the object of his attentions.

He had no doubt that Odin meant it to be a lesson, to discourage him from seeking out the disgraced goddess of fate, the only one who had ever been strong or audacious or noble enough to challenge the wrongs committed by her own kind. He could not; even if he didn't have feelings vested in restoring Silmeria, to once more be with her, he couldn't abandon her crusade. Not to mention there was revenge to consider, every time Odin killed Silmeria's human host he had to impulse to avenge the 'human' personality that died with the goddess.

It was the most recent reincarnation that made him prescribe value to the human constructs that hid the Valkyrie dormant within. Her name had been Sunneva, a bright beauty who lived up to her namesake - 'gift of the Sun'. It had been the closest he'd ever gotten to Silmeria. Sunneva had been Silmeria but had not but it did not keep her from him or him from her. He had been about to draw her away from her life, to bring her willingly with tender regard to his side, and had been about to teach her what she had been when tragedy struck. She was found and tried as a witch for consorting with him. They'd burned her in daylight surrounded by mob and army and he had been helpless to stop it, to save her. It was for the bright eyed innocents like Sunneva that made him strive to avenge their cruel fates. A girl who placed her fragile heart in his hands and had trusted him to protect her and he had failed.

It had been a bad lesson but he learned from it: leave nothing to chance. The next time he got close enough to find Silmeria he just take her! There was plenty of time to restore the Valkyrie to her former self once he'd gotten her out of immediate danger. That was the essentials of the plan: find her, take her, and teach her. Willingness could come later, immediate safety was imperative, important above all else!

* * *

The terms of his magical prowess and strength were a carefully wrought illusion. He didn't entrust either the Vampire Lord or the Half-Elf with anything less than the illusion that he was truly lesser than those Three Fools in Dipan. He had even fooled the best of them, in this day and age Dipan HAD rivaled Flenceberg's magical might, and he had fooled the best Dipan had to offer. The small spells during the battle had been nothing; the mass teleportation hadn't affected him either, and homunculi were easy to create but their construction was time consuming.

The moment he'd gotten back he had cloistered himself into a quiet space down in the dungeons with only the dead to keep him company. The only bodies he had readily available were those of the undead. Normally he'd use whatever materials were present and make the best of it. In this case he had several things to consider. Rufus desired Alicia's return but did not want her to be an undead monster. Brahms wanted a scout for the daylight hours. However if a homunculus was crafted from the undead alone it would not survive in sunlight. That meant he needed something mortal, not undead, a being whose genetic makeup could grant the homunculus resistance or an immunity to sunlight.

He chose a strong, lithe female with blond tresses from amongst the slain undead. She'd suffice for the undead half, now he needed a mortal. Lezard had been careful in his hunt, he blissfully given Rufus and Brahms the second illusion that he had moral limits. If he did those limits would have stopped short of murder but shortly after he'd been left alone he had easily stepped over that line. It had not been difficult to lure a wayward female to her death with his good looks and easy demeanor long enough to kill and take her.

The homunculus in question would be fair, beautiful but it was nothing compared to the pinnacle of his works currently inhabited by the Lady Creator of the future. His judgment of beauty when it came to females had been all but lost from the moment he'd seen the Valkyrie Lenneth. No beauty, mortal or undead, would ever compare or compete with Lenneth, to obtain her was the very reason he was here now.

He placed the two crystallized souls besides the bodies, one to animate each half of the homunculus. The undead soul was a female warrior that had been known as Svana. He'd recovered her soul at the time of her death when Hrist struck her down in a single blow. Alicia's soul would control the human half. He carefully sculpted the bodies into one being through old, forbidden arts.

A homunculus really only needed one soul to give life to a immobile body but he liked to keep a handle upon his creations, especially one as valuable as Alicia. The soul of Svana was incomplete, wilted since he had allowed personality to disintegrate and only kept aspects like motor control. Svana's soul would be invisible next to Alicia's, lying within the homunculus like a silent parasite, a blind and obedient parasite. He placed the crystal within her body and watched as the remnants of the soul branched out, settling within muscles.

Finally he reached for Alicia's soul, placing the small crystal at the base of the neck, just below the brain. Slowly he allowed the elemental barriers of the crystal fall away, allowing the soul through to take residence within the host body. Afterward he sealed the soul securely within. Behind him he heard the distance approach of footsteps, and he was glad he had cleaned his work place of his homicidal handiwork when he saw Brahms and Rufus, "It is done…she will sleep and when she awakes, the body will live with her soul to guide it."

* * *

The black expanse of nothingness finally gave way to awareness. She knew was sleeping, unconscious but it differed in comparison to when her soul had been without root in the physical world, when her soul had existed without body. Alicia felt her chest rise and fall with effortless ease. She could hear, her ears heard others talking nearby. Touch returned to her, she felt a rough and cold surface beneath her naked back and felt her body shivered. A thrill of anticipation went through her, eagerly she pushed for sight and was rewarded when her eyelids flickered open to a dimly lit room.

"She's awake," she heard the voice and was surprised when she could identify it, it was Rufus. Instantly he took off his green cloak and cast it about her shoulders, it was much too big but it protected her modesty and subdued her shivers to nothing. Rufus kindly guided her where she saw Lezard and Dy-Brahms, her mind quickly corrected. She chose a seat between Rufus and Lezard on the principle of being cautious around Brahms, who had scrutinize her covered form from the moment she appeared.

"You are alright?" his voice was deep and pleasing, but it had more weight than Dylan's did. Dylan had been protective; somewhat gentle this one was strong, ruthless when he had to.

"I am alright, Brahms is it?"

The vampire lord's face turned into a wry grin but he showed her no glimpse of fang as if not wishing to frighten her at first glance, "I am sure Hrist told you all she ever wanted you to know about me."

"I guess so, then again Silmeria never told me anything about you. How long were you hiding in Dylan?"

"You say that like I was hiding from the Valkyries like a thief with the silver. Silmeria placed me inside Dylan; Silmeria placed me there to save me long ago. I have a hard time believing she'd do that if I was half of what Hrist said. Hrist has an annoying habit of choosing to confront the world with blind eyes and a closed mind, it not a good combination in anyone's eyes save perhaps Odin's. He prefers blind obedience to obstinate rebellion even if he is wrong especially if he is wrong. That is why I am his enemy and Silmeria's ally."

"Why did you attack Hrist?" she bit her lip as she asked.

"The simple answer is that she serves Odin, to attack her is a mere part of my war against him. The explicit answer is we attacked her for you."

"For me? Why?"

"I am going to find Silmeria, to bring her back as the Valkyrie she once was, and to do that I need your help."

"I don't know much about her time as a Valkyrie…but…," Alicia curled the cloak more tightly about herself, her eyes flickering up to meet the Vampire Lord's, he had an intense, powerful gaze but she met and held it with her own. Her lips moved automatically of their own volition, her reply brought another grin to his visage – one of triumph, "Go on…I'm listening."


	3. Renata

"Renata! You look marvelous."

Renata turned her head over her shoulder to look down at her friend, only one of several wealthy spectators gawking at her while maids fluttered and fretted about fitting her into her crimson, gold embroidered robes. For weeks no less than ten seamstresses had been feverishly preparing the lavish swath of silk and satin covering almost every bit of her body, five of them were currently there now as they oversaw her final fitting – she hoped it would be the last she thought sourly. She had more important things to do than stand around and be useless while others dressed her; she turned a level eye upon her friend, "I am glad one of us is enjoying this entire upstart. I never knew that clothing could take such a long time."

"You are no longer just a princess, you are High Priestess and of Odin no less! You have to be pleasing, everything must be perfect!"

Annoying as it was she had to admit her frivolous friend was right, for the All Father – Lord of All Creation, she indeed had to be perfect in everything from her appearance to her faith. Indeed many didn't dare doubt the latter; everyone well knew the Princess' severe fervor when it came to the question of her faith of which there was no question.

"You do look lovely," one of the seamstresses commented, "but it is so difficult to fit so well built a woman."

This comment made Renata raise her gaze to the mirror level with her height only a few feet away. Compared to the scrawny and slight ladies of court she was well built, her arms and legs were well-rounded, proportioned nicely with muscle. Her skin was smooth and sun-kissed, her fingers nimble from practicing the archery she favored, and her legs well she could easily outrun the fastest man or at least stand toe-to-toe with a male when it came to speed and endurance on foot. All in all, Renata was satisfied with her reflection, pleased by what she made of herself. Her years had not been spent wasting away idly at court. Her early years she'd honed her mind and in her later years, despite general disdain, she'd served her own time amongst the armies of Crell Monferaigne.

Long ago she had committed herself to the idea that she'd not only know of but die upon the battlefield; she'd not condemn herself to the realm of cowards that was Nifleheim. That desire to truly please the gods had been what eventually led her into service first to Ull, then to Tyr, and finally chosen by Odin.

The feat of being 'chosen' was no small ordeal. She was the first 'High' Priestess chosen by any god in three hundred years and the First ever chosen to represent and serve Odin's interests upon Midgard. It was a significant victory for women as much as it was for herself; females rarely ever progressed further than the rank of a lesser Priestess. The blessing of Odin's favor was also a great boon to her house and did much credit to her uncle's capable and just rule. Left an orphan at a young age, her uncle and aunt – King and Queen of Crell Monferaigne respectively had adopted her after their union was rendered as a long suffering and childless. Her own rising position would strengthen their hold upon the throne, a throne that she'd one day inherit as her own.

Before that day came she had ambitions, ambitions of her own to fulfill while she was not tied down to throne or man. Inevitably she'd have to wed and provide a child but that could all wait until after her uncle's death. That in itself was likely VERY far away, many and many years before that would occur, it gave her plenty of time to start her designs. She was more ambitious, more devoted than any of her predecessors. She had not even yet taken the mantle of High Priestess but she intended to leave a legacy that would speak her name throughout the ages. The Undead were a plague upon humankind, a thorn in Odin's foot, it was time to commit to their extinction. Years and years, long ago and well before she was born, there had been human centers, cities, and countries who bred dissent and spread their heresies, it had to stop. In her lifetime she intended to at least start a war of mass conversion that would spread the one 'true' faith across the entire realm of Midgard. This would be her project, to perfect humanity and eliminate that which plagued her progress. To do it she'd need help, lots of help, which of course meant that compared to the modest household, clergy, and followers most High Priests chose she did nothing to moderate her choices of the most competent and willing to aid her in the present and continue her work into the future.

As if reading her facial expressions her dearest and most faithful friend gave her a look of through scrutiny, "I know that look…," unlike the two 'friends' scrapping over backwards to curry favor with Renata the red haired beauty before her truly was a friend to her. Her name was Rivka – a lesser Priestess in service to Lady Eir. They'd met during their long years of martial service in Crell Monferaigne's armies. In fact Rivka's healing spells had saved her life more than once, they were the very reason she was here at all. Rivka finished her statement, "…you already have the future mapped out and ready to be implemented."

"Well, I do have some plans….," she said cautiously though she had a great deal MORE than just a few ideas for the future.

"Do you have your handmaidens picked out?" one of the younger girls peeped in, Renata didn't know her by name but she couldn't be older than thirteen or fourteen years of age. The question she posed was more innocent eagerness than any shrewd hope for personal gain; she was still too young and idealistic to be hunting for benefit like others.

"I do," she admitted coolly in reservation, not offering up any names to those clearly ravenous for them.

"Your clergy?" This time the question was posed by one of those wealthy fortune seekers clothed in religious vestment and false faith, in Crell Monferaigne the court was full of those who paid for the privilege of representing a god as Priest or Pritestess without any true faith guiding the principles behind their position. That was one aspect that she couldn't yet but would anticipate correcting one her uncle was in his grave and her aunt was Dowager Queen. With an arrogant tilt of her head she turned an eye upon the query, the frigid gaze speaking louder than any numerous words could. Truth be told she had both personal entourage and clergy chosen but it wasn't like she was going to release it exclusively and early to the social leeches before her.

Her smart beautiful companion – Rivka, read the message loud and clear from the mere tension on the air. It always did Rivka credit that she not only was intelligent but able to implement it with startling speed when it came to solutions, "Let's get going…come on this isn't a public representation or display that happens later. I am sure 'everyone' here has something they can be doing or SHOULD be doing to prepare for that very event right now," a few of the younger girls startled as if Rivka's words lit a fire beneath their rear ends, instantly sending them scuttling off to follow the Priestess' stern instructions. Meanwhile others filed out slowly with more reluctance but inevitably followed suit when Renata dismissed them through ignoring their presence. It wasn't even a polite way to go about it but it worked just as well as Rivka's words had.

The public presentation was merely a formality, if it could even be considered that. The general public held no power politically. The presentation gave the common people the 'illusion' that they influenced the decision even though she was all but considered High Priestess from the moment she'd achieved her majority, cultivated the support of the noble houses. It was practically set in stone even though the public just now received any sort of awareness over the news. A few outlying opinions dissented but for the most part the entire realm was celebrating her windfall. A celebration like none seen in many, many years was being prepared by her supporting contingent of loyal subjects. If anything the public's display of support now would dissuade others from challenging her rights to the throne in the distant future or at least give any challengers a good hard dose of reality and something serious to contemplate. As Rivka turned back to her after closing the door, when it was just themselves she spoke, "I thank you for that small peace," it was unfortunate that the servants and seamstresses were there to intrude upon the moment but they were easy to overlook when they were meant to be invisible and silent while they worked.

"My pleasure," she purred with a smile, "I do hope you have a place for my sorry self amongst your underlings else who on Midgard will deal with the nobility for you…"

"You know you are amongst the unnamed several."

"Do I? After all they are, as you say, unnamed."

Renata sighed at how Rivka tormented her, for her friend – utterly faithful to herself and to the Gods she'd given her an especial position which would see Rivka not only elevated in her own temple but groomed to possibly be Renata's very own successor in the distant future whenever she stepped down, passed on the reins so to speak.

"Hurry, let's finish with this fitting of yours and then go for a ride. You appear as if you can use the fresh air before all the stuffiness of tonight's celebratory gatherings that will no doubt follow the public announcement."

Dutifully Renata turned her attention back upon cooperating with the small flock of attendants at her feet. Rivka was, of course, right; an afternoon ride would be wonderful.

* * *

Alicia blinked, blinded as a gust of wind blew down the hood of her cloak. Although she didn't have to deal with the inconvenience of blood-only diet, insatiable blood lust, or daytime restrictions she still carried the undead's aversion to sunlight when it came to her senses. This was because Lezard admitted that when he'd created her body he wasn't given a wide variety of human bodies for use and thus forced to rely on using undead. Some days she was grateful not to have been woken up, trapped in the body of a monster but other days – like today, she cursed the misfortune that any part of her was less than human.

She took shelter in the shadows between two buildings, temples no doubt from their sheer size, as she brought her cloak back up to cover her face. The darkness and cover of it was an instant relief, her eyes readjusting with ease to the dark fabric of the cowl she wore to protect her skin as much as her identity. Since she'd been restored to her 'new' life sunburns had been the newest problem she confronted with her ultraviolet-sensitive skin. Upon her awakening she had become the primary day scout for the group.

Centuries of rebellion had made both Lezard and Rufus too noticeable to passerby and it was impossible for Brahms. It left her to manage the daylight reconnaissance while the men split up to do their own upon nightfall. Never had the stakes ever been so high as they were here, Rufus had wanted to forbid her from coming rationalizing that it was too dangerous for her to be alone by day. Even Brahms had given her the choice, the opportunity to back out if she wished and wait for night to descend upon the Holy City. Compromise is what had ruled the day. Rufus and Lezard both were heavily disguised and alternating watches to assure her safety or at the very least, at her back if she needed it. She didn't, in fact she had told them quite truthfully to leave her alone while she ferreted out and about for news, and of course, likely candidates - she never stopped looking for likely hosts for Silmeria. The trick, the hard part, was always getting the host to come out of being discovered alive.

The Holy City of Crell Monferaigne was a maze, more often than not she found herself going in circles as she alternated over from one city block to another in search of the marketplace – usually, by far, the best place to get news of any sort – good or bad. Finally she ran across a vendor who shared directions with her that led to the main road which in turn led to the market square and eventually the royal palace. For his singular aid Alicia purchased her noontime fare from him, a lunch consisting of bread and cheese which she ate as she recounted his directions. Once upon the main road she wondered how on earth she could MISS it. It was crowded; this had to be a larger crowd than usual, it made her idle looking for the source of the gathering. The crowd was parting for a procession of horses coming her way. A white stallion was in the lead with a ginger stallion following close behind its steady hoof beats, the sound of the clicking warning her of the approach. The moment she looked up her breath caught, trapped in her throat.

The woman upon the white horse at the front of the riding column looked every bit the princess that Alicia never thought she'd ever been. There was an air of confidence that spoke loud and clear through her stiff posture and the prideful tilt of her head. Her blond hair shone like golden silk down her back, her eyes the blue of clear water, the kind of cleanest pure water you only found in the mountains. Alicia could only gape instinctively knowing that she found their objective, certainty settling in her stomach. Then the woman's eyes turned in her direction and Alicia instantly felt a prickling sensation of dread wash over her as if she was ousted by glance as a monster amongst these people. Fear paralyzed her, riveting her in place, she heard the click-clack of hoofs but she wasn't sure if the woman was coming towards her. Hands grabbed her, grappling to bring her out of the limelight of the woman's piercing gaze. Alicia knew the arms before they had finished folding around her slight form, finding herself gazing at the cloaked form of Rufus from beneath the cowl of his own cloak. Rufus instantly pushed her against a wall, his back shielding her from being seen by the approaching figures. His lips brushed against hers, giving them the appearance of two lover's in a secret daytime tryst.

A giggle sounded out from behind Rufus, "Renata, it's just two lovers engaging in a private meeting by daylight. Come on, let's keep going," Alicia carefully allowed her gaze to wander around Rufus' protective bulk enough to see the red head on the ginger stallion move ahead with a few of the guard accompanying her in her progress. The last guard idled with the blond, "Princess Renata, is anything amiss?"

"No," the blonds' voice was firm; her tone was slow as if she was contemplating her answer, on HOW to answer the query. Even around the shield of Rufus' body Alicia almost shivered beneath his reassuring warmth, feeling as though the woman's eyes were seeing through Rufus, her eyes burning as they focused on her, into the very fabric of her inhumane being. The guard hesitated, his horse dancing nervously, "Then shall we go? I don't need to remind you that we need to stay strong in number to assure your safety in and out of the city walls, Princess."

"Of course, shall we?" with a reluctance that Alicia could almost taste through her inhuman senses she only relaxed when she saw the Princess goading her magnificent white stallion onward. Her blue eyes turned on Rufus, his lips brushing hers softly as he pulled back to survey her expression. At first there was no words between them, it was hard for Alicia to talk around the fear still pounding in her throat but more difficult than that was to ignore the way she fit within the strong expanse of his arms, the way she liked the pressure of his weight against her, the soft paleness of his lips caressing hers in the retreat. Alicia was frozen for a moment, her hand drifting up to touch her lips where his had been moments before. Rufus' eyes seemed to be checking that she was alright and that the royal riding party had moved on before his weight retreated freeing her own, "I think that's it, Alicia, we're calling the recon quits for the day."

Alicia could only numbly assent, she quite agreed, that brush was a bit too close for her comfort though as they left she wasn't sure if it was her brush with the Princess Renata, with Rufus, or the both of them.

_Both, definitely BOTH._

* * *

Renata tried not to dwell upon the impossibility she'd just encountered, it was impossible, it cannot – could not be. Unfortunately spouting logic didn't make her doubt what she'd had felt any less. Rivka didn't even help much with her teasing remarks about how she was interrupting two tragic star-crossed lovers in the middle of some sneaked in alone time. Even now her skin prickled from the proximity, from having felt the undead but within Crell Monferaigne, in daylight? Had she lost her mind? Even now, outside the city limits, a hollow weight of empty unease was taking root, her pulse rushing at an elevated pace through her veins. Few possessed the natural-born, god-given ability to sense the undead – a sixth sense that identified the evil that lingered inherently around Midgard. The blessing of her faith had only intensified the strength of her reaction. Every bit of her told her it was impossible to sense the undead in broad daylight but her intuition told her they were there, they were, she frowned, amassing in number? Truthfully a part of her was glad that come this evening she'd be able to order the military forces of Crell Monferaigne, to scour the countryside and ferret them out before they could cause any problems. It was a shame she didn't possess the authority to issue that order now and see it carried out herself. By daylight they were forced to seek the sanctuary of whatever shadows they could find which meant they weren't granted the freedom to flee her hunt of them.

The cloaked figure in the market square, the presence of that lone figure, had instantly ruined any thoughts of an enjoyable ride. The day was perfect but since that 'brushing trace' against something less than human her senses were irking her, bothering her to no end. She was nothing if not persistent and vigilant. Rivka was at the lead of their riding column, visibly enjoying the bliss of the day because of her inability, her ignorance to sense the undead. Ignorance was bliss in this case, she thought to herself before she instantly withdrew that sentiment, ALWAYS better forewarned than ignorant when it came to the predatory undead. Perhaps she could convince her uncle, the King to act on account of her impulses if she could convince him that it wasn't undue paranoia getting the better of her. Her talent was useful but that didn't mean some weren't leery or denounced it as being 'all in her head' which is EXACTLY the damn reaction she'd get out of everyone if she went raving to them about the approach of undead with no proof to back it up.

As she trailed behind the others up a mountainous incline, the hairs on the back of her neck raised from behind, the feeling instantly drawing her head to glance over her shoulder. In an instant her pulse surged up her throat, thundering through her veins within mere seconds, her face swiftly looking into the dark depths of a cavern behind her – one of many upon the mountain range. For a moment she was sure she saw a stroke of crimson among the dark ebony but she blinked and it was gone, just like that. Instantly a flush of embarrassment suffused her cheeks as she turned back around and urged her horse onward, severely chastising herself for allowing her mind to play such foolish tricks on her normally sound and unshakable judgment.

* * *

It took him a moment to master the impulse, scalding sunlight be damned, to wrap his claws around those slender wrists, to accost the human female in broad daylight under guard. It would have been absurdly easy to decimate the entire (and paltry) numbers of guards accompanying the two females. The only thing that stayed his hand was the fact that such an action on his part could have, would have meant losing, surrendering the element of surprise that they were sparing for tonight's attack upon Crell Monferaigne. Sometimes it was so simple to forget the fact that, his personal stakes aside, he was waging a furious war against Odin especially when it came to the shock of having the object of his personal crusade flung almost tauntingly in his face. The instant he decided to stay his hand he hoped that this time he wouldn't be made to regret it, every time he had hesitated to date had resulted in losing Silmeria to Odin all over again. Every part of him hoped his swift retreat would be enough to make the young woman believe she was 'seeing things' in having seen his eyes looking at her past the shadows suffusing his daylight resting place – his private sanctuary from unforgiving sunlight so far from the security of home. It has been a mistake to let her see him, to let her even 'think' she saw him but he'd neither done it on purpose or been able to help it once it had happened. All it would take was one whisper of 'undead' near Crell Monferaigne and Odin would act in an instant – game over.

The patience of waiting out daylight made him want to gnash his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to be left alone, waiting and wondering while Alicia, Rufus, and Lezard hazarded the dangers for clues. It was over three decades since Sunneva's death, since he'd last seen a host even remotely close to embodying Silmeria. It was no quick ordeal to travel across Midgard hitting every large city and every small community, stopping for days and nights at a time, to search for long lengths of time in almost utter vain. Odin could respawn Silmeria's reincarnation anywhere upon Midgard; it didn't at all shock him to find Silmeria's host was grown, each and every search having been slow and halting in its ever so gradual progression. One look at the radiant sentinel upon her pale stallion and he knew his patience had paid off. Now the time for patience was done, giving way to the stirrings of palpable impatience; the predator within him wanted to pursue and be done with the forcefully prolonged hunt.

The sound of approaching footsteps made him instantly tense, breaking through his agitation and making his crimson eyes survey the entrance with reserved caution. He barely stirred, didn't have to as he watched and waited nevertheless relief went over him as he noticed and recognized two figures walking through the entrance on sight. The taller was Rufus and he had Alicia with him. The elf had a bow nocked and instantly Brahms growled in the darkness. Alicia saw him first, her undead eyes had ability to see in the darkness but when she had been out amongst sunlight her vision of the dark was dulled from the light outside, "What trouble do you bring at your heels?"

"None," the elf was defensive, "just a measure of precaution, we weren't followed."

"Yet you flee as though there are hounds upon your heels. I will not appreciate it if you bring soldiers or search party tailing your trail."

"We had a tense spot of action in town, you see, Alicia? This is EXACTLY why you weren't going it in there alone…not everyone is ignorant of the undead and you had the luck to run into one that nearly noticed you for what you aren't – human. In that radical ravine of the religiously delusional they don't care about the sanctity of life – if you aren't human you aren't innocent. No gray areas, none at all, only black and white – good or evil. Guess what we are?"

The scathing tirade ended, as the elf face instantly showed regret as Alicia's pale face tightened into a flinch. Brahms knew Alicia was grateful to them to a degree but still it was hard for her to realize what she'd become. With very little of the setbacks that came to being undead many times, most of the time Alicia could simply pretend she was human if no one mentioned anything that would divide her from the real thing, real HUMANS, "Be that as it may, it wasn't a total waste, Brahms…I have found her, I'm so sure of it, there is no doubt, none at all. Her name is Renata, Lady Renata Eliste de'Vaughn, she is Princess of Crell Monferaigne and is to ascend to the mantle of High Priestess this evening. The whole town is stirred up to celebrate this…if there is any time they are ill prepared or off guard it will be before she crawls into the power structure. In person, there is no mistaking her she is so frightening, her mere gaze froze me, I was, am so sure that the instant she saw me she knew me for what I was even if her mind told her….no."

Brahms prowled restlessly, tasting the name on his tongue as it rattled through his mind; his voice came out a growl, "Physical description?"

"None to give, if you have any idea what Silmeria looks like you'll see her for who she is and what she was," Alicia answered, Brahms knowing he could count on her – after all only had he or Alicia actually seen Silmeria, in flesh or mind, without having been forced to know her through Alicia's own body – Silmeria's vessel, once upon a god damn time…

His damn body was humming with the need to move, to do something, ANYTHING when he heard yet another approach. Like him, with varying degrees of effectiveness, Alicia and Rufus melted into the shadows as Lezard stepped out of the light, "Oh good, you two made it back, find anything?"

To Brahms, he turned his attention away, even though he heard her report mere moments ago it already seemed like 'old news' – note worth noting unless there was something new to gain from the retelling. Alicia nodded and started to fill the mage in with the details of her own intelligence venture – including her run-in with Renata. However she didn't get far in that explanation when Rufus, emerald eyes glinting, rounded on the mage, "Where the hell did you go? She ran into trouble when she was supposed to be under your watch!"

Lezard blinked, pushing his glasses up his nose, the mage somehow making that nervous gesture look controlled, calculating yet undeniably apologetic, "I apologize," Rufus was about to snarl when Lezard bowed to Alicia, "my apologies, I thought you had a good handle on pacing yourself, interested but not too forward, not enough to reveal anything at any rate. I did not think you'd have any spots of true trouble so I pursued a lead that caught my notice, coming to me of its own volition. I was rewarded for allowing myself to go astray but I never intended it to cause anyone harm, Lady Alicia, least of all you," the mage's eloquence never failed to amaze Brahms and Alicia had an easy heart, one only too willing to forgive Lezard in this instance especially since he, reputably, had something of use. At any other time Brahms would have piled this observation amongst others in an attempt to get clues about the enigmatic mage but his words drew Brahms attention more than the mystery of the mage's continuous company, now a couple centuries after he'd met the mortal male all those long years ago in Dipan. Brahms had long given up wondering why Lezard wasn't aging in the slightest. Lezard's intel, it was something new and it drew Brahms attention away from the urge to pace long and hard enough to wear down the stone floor of the cave bottom. The Vampire King turned his unsettled, crimson eyes upon the mage, his impatience making the order snap off his lips, "Speak."

"Catacombs, I have discovered catacombs, they branch and spider throughout the whole city. They are in good condition, no disrepair, nor are they policed or patrolled. The passages which have been abandoned through disuse are still strong and feasible avenues of attack; they are openly used as sewage waterways or agricultural irrigation channels."

"Are you sure of this Lezard?" Brahms voice was hoarse, "because I would really hate for you to be wrong and for it to cost lives. Where did you get your information? Have you confirmed it?"

Every bit of him wanted all of Lezard's intelligence to be accurate, solid so it could immediately be used to their benefit, the mage was nothing if not competent, precise, through. That didn't mean Brahms could overlook the sheer necessity of questioning his intel, it all seemed 'too good to be true'. Lezard didn't disappoint him for which he was grateful, "Naturally I checked it out through all manners of individuals: the undertaker, farmers, locals. I have done even one better, I have found a path that connects the catacombs to this very mountain range, walked the very path myself it is how I got here so swiftly. The people love their princess, apparently she handles domestic affairs in the King's name, a very neat and orderly presence that allows nothing to go to waste…it will serve us well."

"Yes," Brahms though with a wry smile thinking on how the woman's practicality, her frugality when it came to unnecessary spending, would aid them in abducting her – a true windfall, "yes, it will, how much longer until sundown?"

"Seven hours at least," Rufus uttered, his tone hard, matter-of-fact.

A bitter curse flew from his lips, he HATED summer days, such a long damn time away, too long…

* * *

The moment they returned to the stable yard Renata heeled her stallion to an immediate halt before throwing the reins down against a hitching post with a snap. A few stable hands heard the slap of the leather against the wood, jumping in momentary fright as she slipped down its heaving side. After the ride she'd found a visit to her uncle was in order, a personal visit which had been an easy excuse to rid herself of Rivka's presence. If she was not so adamant or unshaken she might have taken an opportunity to freshen up her appearance or even send him a missive to alert him to her approach but she didn't do either, just showed up on his doorstep. Renata knew it was a dramatic way to show up but she hoped the deviant behavior would convey a feeling of true concern to her only true 'blood' relative, enough to get him to act when she heeded him to.

She did, however, take an opportunity to collect her winded breathing. She would not reduce herself to disgrace by looking like a disheveled heathen, she was better than that and smarter too. There was better ways to get attention than through scandalizing the high court. Minutes passed by, she was only pleased when the rise and fall of her chest was barely discernable, allowing her hands to smooth over the front and curve of her lavender gown before she stately stepped forward, her petite mouth curved into an impassive line neither smile nor frown, revealing nothing freely. A regal tilt of her head towards the footmen and they were instantly hurrying to their posts, hurrying to open to the door before she got to it. Renata stepped lightly upon her feet, her skirts always concealing the rapid and delicate movement of her heels. The only sound to give any her presence was the way her high heels clicked over the shining marble floors, so clean that she could easily see her reflection if she looked down.

Her uncle saw her; it was simple when all the nobles turned their eyes upon her, conversations muting to nothingness in an instant.  _Three guesses WHOM they were talking about_ , she thought to herself as she slipped into an effortless curtsy, "My lords, your Majesty," even her tone was in place, properly deferential. It earned her more than a few covetous gazes as her eyes flickered demurely under her eyelashes before meeting their gazes like an equal, the equal she was. Compared to her entrance, the way her Uncle thrust out his hand to help her up at the last moment made him look almost common-born, like comparing silk to rough cloth, "Renata, dazzling as ever, what brings you here to us on this undoubtedly busy day? I thought I wouldn't see you until this eve."

"I was not aware you were entertaining guests, I pray you will pardon my rude interruption but I was hoping to beg a moment of your time, to speak to you."

Her uncle chuckled and looked around at the mass of men before and around him as if he was sharing a private joke or pleasure at hearing her request, "I don't know if you can but I can't resist such a prettily phrased request. Go ahead, dear niece."

Her mouth curved into a reserved smile, radiant in its own right but held back as well, "In private," no way she was going to broadcast her 'delusional' crap to an audience, not only no but HEL no, "it will only take a moment."

She cast an apologetic smile at the nobles, it promised each and every one of them everything and nothing. They took the damn bait, jumping to do her bidding before her uncle even thought to dismiss them. One of them spoke up, "My Lord, we'll step outside, it is a beautiful day and we'll not keep your busy and beatific niece waiting," men were easy to play, as easy as a harpsichord or at least this lot was. Her uncle acquiesced, not like he had any choice without blowing everything out of proportion, making a big deal out of a small thing. The moment their footsteps had retreated from the hearing of either of them, he turned on her with his furious face contorted into a growl, "Don't you EVER do that again!"

"Do what?" her tone was light, airy, and innocent despite the fact she knew exactly what she had done to upset him, she was playing power games with him, pushing his limits to see whose influence went further with his own underlings.

"Dismiss my nobles!" he seethed which was very….un-kinglike; "You insult me! When, when you act over my head like that."

"I apologize, I will not do so again," typically she did not bait her uncle in such a way but she had not been in the mood to weather him waving her off when she felt she had justification and right to be speaking with him right now, she had decided she'd NOT be deterred not when the personal safety of others was at stake. When it came to the upper classes it was always better to be friend or acquaintance than foe, family ties aside her uncle was no exception to that rule.

Her uncle fixed her with a gaze that years ago, before she'd served in his military, would have frightened her into submission or at the very least second guess herself. Now she knew she had nothing to fear from his displeasure, she blinked once. She wanted to speak but she knew it would please her uncle if she waited for his 'permission'. When he seemed to realize she wasn't going to back down, he continued speaking, "Now, what brings you here. Speak, you might as well…"

"I would like you to send out the Alaunt."

"The scouting vanguard? Why? You are urging us to send them out two months early; they only just completed a scouting run a month ago. They are sent out only four times a year and ONLY that much because of you," even though she'd been successful in her aims it had not been one of her greatest political moments for the fact that, THAT particular decision had been the first one in which she had challenged her uncle and won popular support both at court and in public, neither of which pleased him. It was the first political challenge of many that arose through the recurrent years following that single act of dissent.

"Because they might have missed something or something has perhaps moved in upon our city since that time, I prefer to be cautious and wrong than reckless and right. I sense something."

"Something or someONE? Your ability, no one really understands it, not even you. What makes you think I should count on it?"

Renata bristled inwardly at the insinuation but she knew the flush traveling up her cheeks was not her fury but her embarrassment, her uncle didn't believe her, he clearly though she sensed one undead and was taking everything out of context. She had no proof for him so she could not speak well in her defense; she was asking a favor of him on pure gut instinct. If she wasn't sure herself it was going to be a long battle to get any sort of action out of him.  _Stubborn man, Foolish King!_  She restrained the impulse to clench her fist or grit her teeth; she'd not give him the benefit of seeing he rattled her self-confidence or instilled doubt in her abilities though it hurt to receive this condemnation from her own family. She thought he was better than this that he would see her gift not as a threat to his authority but as a gift, something to be of use, of benefit, "My ability is a gift, a god-given gift!"

"I'll see what the gods make of your 'gift' and get back to you, High Priestess. The earliest I'll send them out, IF the situation warrants it and IF I send them out at all, will be tomorrow," that was the best she'd get out of him, it was disappointing that he was reduced to playing such petty games all to get back at her.

Renata wasn't going to let him just shrug her off, she wasn't going to let him have the last word, so her own last words were layered with an ominous threat, "You tell me, Uncle, when have I ever been wrong? I can tell you my record is a lot more clear and better than yours. Good day!"

She stalked out, heels clicking furiously, paying no mind to anything save her next destination. She was too upset to ride or return to her own 'home', she needed the solace of silence and a moment to pray. From around her neck she drew off beads – a rosary made the purest white pearls, it was only a focus for prayer but she needed it, needed to touch it. If only she had the rosary known as Odin's Favor - an heirloom passed from each High Priest to his successor, a magical artifact bestowed upon Crell Monferaigne that lead the prayers of the holder straight to the All Father. It belonged to, belonged in the hands of the current High Priest, it should have been hers but it wouldn't be given to her until tonight, until everything was official, until then it was in the hands of the royal family – her uncle. Who knew if he'd even bother to use it, her uncle had made it quite obvious he thought she was stirring up trouble for his personal benefit. Her lip curled in disgust, as if she had the time to waste on such petty games. No, she trusted that Odin would lend an ear to her earnest prayer and he'd answer it more readily than her uncle. Once she reached the private chapel of the royal family she bent down her head, prostrating herself in prayer before the All Father.

* * *

The damn girl, she was proving to be a lot more trouble than she was worth. It was only too clear that she held Odin's fickle favor but she wielded it to devasting advantage in her ambitious political power plays. Once a precious asset she was quickly becoming an unwelcomed liability to his rule. How long would it be before she claimed the crown in deed if not in name? Rendering him as nothing more than a figurehead, a puppet? It was something he'd rather not consider...It was a bitter pill to swallow when she'd achieved her majority amongst the nobility for it effectively freed her entirely. From that moment in time onward Renata was 'hands off' he could have no more say, no further impact on her future. As High Priestess she owed her loyalty to one being - the All Father, Odin. No longer could he try to arrange a marriage to benefit himself for celibacy was all but required of a woman once she rose high enough in the religious echelons. Autonomy and intellect enough to appreciate it, to take advantage of it - there was no worse combination in a woman.

He supposed it would be too much to wish her death; it would certainly make his life a great deal easier. For some time he'd hoped that she'd agree to return to the fields, to die upon the battlefield but Renata had turned her capable mind and energies upon political arena. That eliminated the possibility of accidental death and kinslaying, without reason or sanction, was a crime in the eyes of the gods so he never went further than considering it, allowing it to cross his mind but never beyond that threshold, never planning it out or seeing it done. Once upon a time he had considered assassination but knew she was simply too well protected and even if he didn't do the deed if he contracted the task out to others it was still kinslaying – cold blooded murder of one's own blood.

Something HAD to be done about her, to put her in her place before she could stretch her legs and get used to walking all over him. Even now he recalled her bluff; it was a dangerous one to ignore. If he ignored it and something happened, the public would blame him and the gods would be displeased. At the very least he'd cover himself so the blame couldn't entirely fall upon his shoulders, upon him. He licked his lips in a unusually nervous gesture before pulling a chain of beads out of his robes, allowing them to warm between his fingers as he extended a prayer towards Odin, hoping it caught his notice.

* * *

" _Lord Odin?"_

_Odin heard Freya the first time but he did not chose to answer her, not yet. His mind reaching out for a tenuous connection between himself and several mortals, he paid more heed to the females voice for he recognized it and took pleasure in Renata's steadfast devotion. She was becoming the daughter Silmeria had never remotely been, it was a shame that the gift of divinity had been wasted upon rebellious Silmeria. He wouldn't have minded having Renata as a Valkyrie; she was compassionate but not too much so much like Lenneth, through and competent like Hrist. Yes, it would be a shame once her mortal life was extinguished, done. Unfortunately the tidings through her prayer were not good, in fact if there was any truth to them then it would become necessity to end Renata's life before it truly began._

" _Lord Odin?"_

_He opened his eyes, keeping the fragile connection between himself and the mortal woman intact, "Yes?"_

" _There are still several concerns that warrant our attention, most of all the disappearance of the undead. The race is plentiful, strong and yet they disappeared so thoroughly, it doesn't seem possible like it is too good to be true."_

" _Freya, you tell me, the Undead follow their King and for centuries what has he pursued over all else?"_

" _Silmeria…"_

" _Yes, I am afraid that our hand is forced, better to be cautious than made to regret our inaction at a later time. Even now a few true believers in Crell Monferaigne feel the taint of the Undead descending upon their City. I want the mortal soul of Silmeria's reincarnation sent back here, brought back into the fold of Asgard. Direct Lenneth Valkyrie to Crell Monferaigne and place the trace upon Renata's soul. I want this done before nightfall, during daylight, Freya."_

_Freya looked shocked, as she should, the 'trace' was a magic that not only slated a mortal for death but marked them to be taken as Einherjar. It was a way – the only way in which Odin actively chose his own Einherjar, most of the time he exclusively trusted his Valkyrie to act upon their own judgments. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, the 'trace' would draw Lenneth to Renata like blood drew the foul Undead._

_When would Brahms learn…how many MORE broken bodies did he have to leave at the Vampire King's feet? A more permanent solution was needed, one that would deny the Vampire King his lady love for the rest of his bleak eternity. Yes, Odin thought, I must think on this._

* * *

No longer would he wait, he refused to although he knew the sun would scald his skin. As soon as the sun was down low enough that the trees, for the most part protected him from the ultraviolet rays he forced Lezard to take him through the catacombs. By the time they got to Crell Monferaigne he hoped it would be sundown, nightfall for he had no intention of waiting. The sun was his eternal enemy and Odin's ally, more often then he cared to recall Odin had used it against him, used the natural phenomena of daylight as an ideal time span to operate undisturbed by the Undead. It was a fatal weakness that he'd no longer afford to be used against him.

The cold catacombs were a relief, a temporary shield and traversing their depths gave his impatient nerves the illusion that he was doing something. Instinctively he knew that he'd not be satisfied or sated until he had Silmeria's host in hand – alive and well. Sending mental commands by mind to command his undead into their respective positions drew his mind away from the regret of not having acted earlier when he had his chance. Even now he remembered the supple strong beauty; Alicia was quite right there was no mistaking Silmeria, it was so easy to see the goddess laying dormant within her mortal hosts. There was a certain irony to the young woman's name. Brahms gave a dry chuckle as he allowed the name to roll over his tongue yet again.

_Renata…_

Amongst the mortals it meant 'reborn', it was an appropriate name but in the tongue of the damned it meant something else entirely. It was a name derived from the word 'renate' which meant 'last chance' – it was also a fitting translation of the name for he was sure that Odin would not give him endless chances. Time was running out, he knew it, his attempts were driving Odin's patience into the ground but if he pushed too far Brahms feared that he'd lose Silmeria altogether, for good. A shiver went down his spine; no way could he allow that to happen, truly he couldn't shake the feeling that this was his 'last chance' to see Silmeria reborn.


	4. Stolen Sacrifice

Renata sat placid, serene, and silent as women touched her hair, fawning over its splendid tone of color as they brushed it until it was like burnished sunlight spilling over her shoulders and down her back. She scarcely could bother to concentrate on what they said - it was all white noise, it meant nothing to her. It was hours after she'd returned from her ride, returned from the visit with her uncle yet the afternoon's events still lingered in her mind while she tried to ruminate and figure out what it all meant. Something should be done tonight, before it was too late even if she was imagining a threat out there. Better safe than sorry - was never more applicable than it was in this moment.

Females in both the low and higher ranks of the nobility had eagerly volunteered to 'help' the religious acolytes in preparing her for tonight. In truth they'd not only got in the way but also utterly supplanted and drove off any religious personnel, feeling the necessity to make Renata suffer their strange and alien sisterhood to the end. They were no true friends or allies of hers; it had been so long since she'd ever thought of any of them as more than acquaintances - in fact frequently she thought less of them than that. Eagerness was all they had to speak for them, they were eager to cultivate any last minute ground with her and eager to extend well wishes to one of their own - one who was leaving behind the worthless, frivolous, and carefree existence they practiced. The more time she spent in their presence the more she realized that there was just no similarities, no likeness between herself and these faceless females with their ever shifting emotional masks. To be honest the half of the time she did pay attention it only made her want them to go away more, even if she had to make herself ready without any assistance.

Before she could finish figuring out if the gaining the momentary peace would be worth the longer lasting insult she could render to them she was she was saved the trouble of that ultimately when the door handle made a hushed rattling sound. She was so eager for a break from the ladies that she knew someone was there before the door even started to open. Her companions didn't catch onto the fact they were being disturbed until the door opened just enough to admit one woman - a glance up in the mirror allowed her to see whom it was, something she hadn't been able to do from all the women surrounding her with their voluminous skirts. The new presence joining them was truly a blessing, it was her aunt. Although her aunt was not as powerful a personality as she was herself the mere action of stepping wordlessly into the room silenced everyone's chatter within in an instant.

However, from her appearance you'd never be able to tell of their shared blood relation, they looked nothing like each other. Her aunt possessed a pale complexion and dark appearance, her skin was the palest Renata had ever seen on a human and her hair was a brown so dark it was almost black. Reputably, her aunt looked much like her younger sister - Aredhel, Renata's ill fated mother. Truly in her family Renata's appearance made her appear the part of a golden changeling by comparison.

At forty years of age, Evadne was still the true beauty at court, age had done her credit and she still was the most beautiful woman amongst the nobility despite the fact that the years were collecting, weighing down upon her. Her beauty was a blessing the others begrudged her despite knowing the terrible truth of how it was the curse that trapped her and her sister, Aredhel both in loveless matches with the two royal princes of Crell Monferaigne. Her aunt strode into the room like she owned it, in truth she did, everyone owed loyalty to Evadne. She was their Queen but noticeably a few visibly relaxed once they saw whom it was, still resenting their foreign born Queen even after all these long, long years. In the eyes of many their foreign blood had been one ill strike against the foreign brides forced upon their native country, what had truly made the nobility cold to her aunt's presence and prestige was the fact they thought her undeserving of it. Evadne brought no wealth through her marriage to their King, Evadne had been reluctantly accepted as a peace offering.

In truth neither Aredhel nor Evadne had been wealthy; they did not possess fine dowries, not enough to win themselves a match with Princes. No, the only thing they had to speak for them was the fact that while their native country was impoverished they were proud and powerful; militarily their country was enough of a threat to contest even Crell Monferaigne. In his early youth, long before he assumed the throne, her uncle's rash action of raping a foreign Princess, even of lesser rank, was one that threatened Crell Monferaigne with war. The former King – Renata's grandfather, was not willing to permit a war to outbreak over any personal disputes; he would NOT allow his armies to wage war unless it was sanctioned, holy, unless the war being fought was fought for the Gods. It had left him with the decision to force the Prince, his heir, to tender the offer of an honorable marriage to the offended and hoped that settled the issue. It had not, the country had not wanted to give up their Princess without due compensation. With the threat of combative conflict hanging over his head the King offered his second son in marriage to the second daughter, essentially tying the two countries tightly together through a strong enough marital alliance to defuse the conflict grudgingly on and for both sides.

No, many of the females there, especially the highborn who had fancied matches with the royal family back in the day of their time as debutantes, resented the Queen who, after the death of Renata's mother, was the only reminder of a shameful affair. The disdain was shared, mutually felt though her aunt did a better job of concealing it or at least exercising her distaste with polite reservation. Evadne's dark blue eyes swept over the crowd until they sought out and found Renata's own. A smile curved at Renata's lips, it was a smile she found reflected back upon her aunt's face. It was the first show of positive emotion Renata had seen since she'd entered the room. In truth her aunt never showed genuine happiness save around Renata, the act of raising her sister's child having been Evadne's one true joy, the only happiness left in the wake of her sister's death.

"Get out," Evadne's command was soft but resolute, in that moment she was not to be contested or denied. Her arm was still braced against the door, holding it open to reveal an abandoned hallway. When others did not respond right away her eyes hardened, dark with restrained but flinty anger shining in their depths. Again diplomacy prevailed for her aunt did not allow herself to do something so disgraceful as losing her temper, "Ladies...I said 'leave'," a graceful sweep of her arm accompanying her verbal command, letting them know it wasn't a request but a command, they were to leave and do as she bid.

With many incensed looks and slow steps they all obediently filed out, the last one's heels barely fleeing in time to avoid getting her skirts shut in the door. Renata watched her aunt who stood there a moment, as if making sure they were really going away, leaving the two of them alone. It was then that she saw her aunt was holding a dark box held securely in her grasp - some kind of jewelry?

For a moment she stared at Renata, as if taking her in, taking in what she had become. Almost hesitantly she finally stepped forward, gently laying the box down upon Renata's vanity turning to place her hands on either side of her neck, embracing her softly and kissing both cheeks before allowing her hands to smooth over the elegant robes. A sadness dwelling within her dark eyes, a smile of conflicting happiness curving at her lips, finally a sigh, "If only you mother were here, if only she could see this, could have seen you. Your mother would be proud to see her daughter rise so high in a court, THE court which once scorned her, scorned OUR common blood..."

With a certain sadness Renata recalled that although it had been her uncle's sin it had been her mother, Aredhel, who truly paid the price, shouldered the heaviest burden. Evadne had been given all the rights due to a Queen, Aredhel had been given a Prince in marriage but endured countless slights and cruelties at court. Her mother had came unwelcomed into a foreign court, endured the fact she was reliant upon the hospitality of her husband when it came to wealth, reliant upon his protection from the wolves she'd been fed to. Her mother had come virtually in poverty, her fathering having the power to ruin her, to withhold any fruits of marriage from her. Fortunately her father had been very kind, collected and controlled compared to his elder brother. If he had resented the union he was forced into he had never taken it out upon her mother, her father had made her mother's marriage and the last few years of her life bearable.

Renata swallowed, "I miss her," bitterly she recalled what had denied her a mother's love - the undead. They'd killed her mother and father both in an ambush during her own infancy, a royal orphan when she was not even a year old. It made unease tighten in her gut to think that now they possibly lingered near unmolested, unconfronted - a bitter pill to swallow, in fact it felt like a pill that hadn't gone down. The possibility they were around still bothered her, as if they were a pill stuck in her throat, one she could not swallow down no matter how hard she tried, "Aunt, I visited the royal manse today...I tried to speak with, to convince the King...I feel them again, the undead, I feel them near, all around."

Queen Evadne went rigid, pulling back out of the embrace to survey her, if she'd been angry with the noblewomen she looked incensed now, "He did not take you seriously? I will talk to him, talk to him on your behalf...if they are near we will not weather the insult of their presence," her aunt had never been a devotee to the faith, she'd admitted that to Renata once, not until the Undead had killed her sister, destroying what little was left to her life after suffering the forced union. No, after her sister's death, her aunt had counted the blessings that remained with her, taking delight in the fact she'd been left, been given her sister's only child to raise and love as her own, "I will not let him ignore you, I will speak to him but I came now to share my own personal sentiments with you. I am proud of who you have become both inside and outside my influence, what you have become with or without my blessing...if my sister were alive this day, she'd be the happiest woman alive, I know I am in having raised you to this point in time in her stead. I, WE have something for you,"

Renata found her aunt's last words to be strange in how they were delivered, we? Her mother was long deceased and left nothing behind save her...Aredhel had left nothing behind and been grieved only by her daughter and sister. Evadne turned her hands carefully balancing a shining coronet, Renata's breath instantly was caught in her throat.

The piece was lovely - thickly braided silver entwined and arching almost lovingly around a priceless fortune of shimmering jewels - a rainbow of them frozen eternally in their vivid colorations. Ruby, sapphire, diamond, and emerald were only of the few gems she recognized on sight but the jewel that truly captured her eyes was at the pinnacle, the center of the crown - an enormous opal the length of her thumb in both length and width. She could not stop herself from the show of emotions playing in her eyes, her throat constricting tightly - it had been her mother's, the ONLY thing her mother had truly called her own.

When her mother had come to the court to wed her father, utterly destitute and unadorned he'd had a piece commissioned to welcome his foreign bride, to make her feel worthy of a match she'd never wanted or asked for. He had been determined to make her feel like a Princess, to understand that she was HIS Princess, his wife, maybe even his love? To have it now was like having a piece of her mother, here and now, always nearby even in death. When the preciously pricey personal heirloom had not accompanied her mother, its owner to the grave many a covetous eyes, herself included, had speculated and asked after its fate. Though, in truth, her own queries had been motivated by its sentimental value to her, to her mother's memory than by any base instinct like greed.

Evadne transferred it to her left hand, using her right to push Renata down upon the seat in front of the vanity's large mirror before taking the coronet and resting it upon her smooth sunlit tresses, it glimmered like it belonged there. Her aunt's hands coming to rest upon her relaxed shoulders, approval radiating in the depth of her eyes, "Perfect...a perfect fit for the perfect Princess."

"I am not a Princess tonight."

"You have always been a Princess by rite of birth, tonight you will be a Princess by virtue; a Princess in deed as well as name. It matters not what capacity you serve your people as long as you serve them as they do you."

Renata gazed into the mirror; she was willing to do that, to pay any price to do that, "I am ready..."

* * *

_It was better late than never to have your prayers answered..._

Ilker thought with immense satisfaction. The Gods would continue to bestow their favor upon Crell Monferaigne, upon him but they demanded a price, a price he was only too willing to pay. The Valkyrie and mortal Einherjar would wage a battle on his behalf, they'd spare Crell Monferaigne from the scourge of the Undead, the protective Covenant would be renewed but for a blood price. Odin wanted a life, a specific sacrifice, they wanted Renata, his virgin niece and they wanted her, wanted this done this evening.

It was a shame she was so liked, so loved or he might have actually done the deed himself as he had once before but there was nothing to change that. To kill Renata even with Odin's blessing would be viewed by others as political assassination. The deed had to be done discreetly, in fact Odin expressed a wish for the sacrifice to be voluntary, to give it meaning, to give it true power. That meant completing the farce of tonight's celebrations, the illusion that Renata's own religious reign would be beginning when in fact her life was slated to end.

Fingers slipped into his royal robes, touching the beads of Odin's Favor, he was sure once Renata received its commands, Odin's command through it she would obey it. Her faith made her very blind to a fault. He stepped into the carriage, immediately it rolled onward towards the public square leaving him to engineer a few discreet scenarios to see the deed done if Renata would not, a few names flipping through his mind, names of individuals who'd silence her without question. By the time he got there he was relatively sure that the probability of success was great enough that by the end of the night he'd be celebrating a full victory that he had long awaited and desired.

* * *

For his moment of obstinate impatience, Brahms ended up paying the price the rest of the damn day, his skin stinging as it stretched taut across his muscled body. The sun had done more than singe, it had charred him, the pain biting through him at every movement but it was more bearable to suffer it than doing nothing. Even if every step was torture it felt better to be moving onward. The catacombs were cramped for how many undead were traversing its passages, a hiss coming from him at any contact with his skin, even the heavy cool and moist air prickled his irritated skin instead of soothing its burn. Despite popular belief vampires could weather daylight but only in ever so brief amounts, the older the vampire, the longer they exist away from sunlight the more serious the ultraviolet burn, the less time they can weather it without being burnt down to ash.

A large part of him was shocked he had managed it, that all of them had, no elder had been lost to him for the stupid feat they attempted. Shade had been a salvation but unlike in caves once they were out in the open, exposed even if they sought cover it didn't completely protect them from the sun. In daylight, reflective surfaces like water reflected the sunlight around and even cloud cover could trap sunlight, it made for a hostile environment to weather and move in, yet they had managed it. It was a promising start to the mission even if they'd have to heal; he couldn't count their blessings not until he saw how many of his elders survived the coming battle. It was a suicide in itself for them to approach the enemy crippled by severe pain, a factor which affected their mobility greatly. They still had the element of surprise perhaps that would help them in getting the drop on their sustenance.

Already Rufus and Alicia had split off, taking some of the younger blood with them topside, the youngest of the race would be able to blend within the crowds and take shelter from the sun easily within the shadows of the buildings and temples. Until they'd reached a straightforward stretch of the catacombs Lezard had remained to guide him and a majority of both elders and primes - vampires who were not yet old or powerful enough to be elders nor were young and inexperienced as fledglings. Primes were the middle-aged, he hoped to keep their causalities' down. The primes made up a large portion of their combat force, give or take a couple centuries they'd all grow into their power and ascend to be a numerous population of threatening elders. That was always the catch, turning them was easy keeping them alive long enough to truly grow into their potential was the trouble. One elder could be worth at least thirty fledglings when it came to turning the tide in a battle.

When they'd reached the straightforward stretch of the catacombs he'd taken Lezard aside, instructing him to split up and team up with the others topside, "If she is going to be here I want her taken down," he spoke of Hrist Valkyrie, frankly he knew she'd likely make an appearance but he didn't want her confronting Alicia and Rufus with only fledglings to guard their back, no they needed Lezard a lot more than he did. Alicia, the girl had already suffered through enough, she'd been a stalwart ally even if she wasn't quite on their par when it came to skill in weaponry not to the degree Rufus, Lezard, and himself were. It had been by hopeful necessity that he'd recovered Alicia to keep Rufus at his side, sadly it had been a ideal way to recruit Rufus for the rebellion against Odin, to get the elf to fight for his own aims but also because he had hoped that the former Princess might act as a restorative catalyst when it came to the host remembering its previous life as Silmeria. It was wrong to use her in such a way even if Alicia knew and hoped for the same, nevertheless he couldn't allow anything to happen to Alicia again – Silmeria would never forgive him nor would Rufus. If Alicia died a second time she'd be damned, and Rufus would not stop hunting him until one of them was dead.

All the more reason to make sure they were successful, to make sure this was the last time they'd try to do something so foolish but what choice was left to them?  _None._

He kept that in mind as they rose from the catacombs, stepping level onto dark streets, the only light was provided by lanterns which were casting a nice, full glow over what appeared to be a relatively abandoned housing district. At least until he heard footsteps, heavy with mortal clumsiness, his blood thirst instantly clawed into his gut reminding him of the fact he needed to feed, to recover, to heal. He didn't need to bare his fangs, all the vampires knew their place: he was their King and his needs came first. The mortal male seemed to notice their presence without realizing the danger at first, "Oh, are you visitors?" he frowned, "the public celebration, the induction ceremony is taking place before the palace to the North District of…"

Although every impulse in him wanted to fall upon the male he paused, practicing restraint just long enough to glean whatever he could out of him. The male however seemed to notice their strange outward appearances, the strange way their pale skin was wrinkled from their blisters, his eyes widening as he stumbled backwards. Brahms lunged forward, his claws instantly closing around the throat crushing the unvoiced cry of alarm to a dead rattle. The wind pipe caved in as his fangs tore into the neck to sever the vocal chords. His grip calmed as he realized the mortal was dead, dead weight in his grip. The threat of exposure was past; giving way to the taste of mortal's blood upon his lips and fangs, the warm cascade staining his fingers. His eyes narrowed into predatory slits, lips brought down to fasten upon the man's neck, cradling his limp body in his arms not willing to waste a single drop of his life-giving elixir. As he fed he felt his skin smooth out to a pure shade of muscled alabaster, his blisters melting away into smooth seamless, perfectly health skin.

Brahms drank his fill of the man, nearly drinking his corpse dry of blood before he passed it off to another, a secret part of him disgusted by the necessity of killing the man. He hadn't planned on that, it didn't matter that the mortal had faith in the wrong kind, faith in a bastard like Odin; it was still no reason to kill him. It wasn't like confronting the Dark Valkyrie who knew the wrongs of the system but believed the ends justified the means, that the Gods had right to do whatever wanted regardless whether it was right or wrong. No, it had been necessity in a different way, the man could've ruined everything, even though he was so powerless when personally compared to ANY of the vampires before him in that moment Brahms had registered him as a threat and dispatched him before he could become one.

Brahms looked back to see an elder female upon the mortal's neck, feeding off of his leftovers, her claws were closed over the throat, her lips a fierce suction while her clawed fingers eased the blood to flow to the neck. Her eyes rose to meet his own, licking her lips with a discreet grace, it was barely noticeable. As she pushed herself up Brahms' eyes went from her down to the mortal.

The innocent were always the first to be consumed, why was that? The first victim out of many tonight, he supposed, nevertheless it was fitting to get the unpleasant part of his invasion out of the way and get things started. A moral compass was never a good thing to have when it would weaken you, when others would kill you regardless of whether you had it or not. No, there was no room for him, for any of them to extend mercy this evening. Everyone in this city was their enemy, no mercy or quarter would be given to them. It is us or them, and he was going to make sure it was them…

* * *

Crell Monferaigne - the Holy City, a city that was visibly thriving under the favor of the Gods yet a problem lingered near, the Undead lingered near. Lenneth wasn't even entirely sure which lure pulled her stronger: the impending fate of the chosen joining her Einherjar or the Undead themselves. Lenneth turned her intense blue gaze upon the proceedings, upon her mark with an eye for criticism and critique. The pale beauty was wonderful. So young, that was Lenneth's first impression when she had scryed her through spirit, so young it was almost tragic that death was coming to her so early in life but she was worthy indeed.

Lenneth was a goddess of fate, it wasn't for her to dictate the where and when of Renata's death, that task belonged to Hel. As Chooser of the Slain, hers lay in deciding the fate of the departed souls after death that alone made many proclaim her 'death goddess' – the comparison was unflattering but it did not make her dislike her duty in the least. Let the living curse her name in ignorance, she knew who and what she was, the deserving accompanied her for a time then spent the rest of their days in paradise, the undeserving joined a TRUE death goddess and learned the difference. After death, Renata would belong in Valhalla, she would do well there.

In her best finery she was  _elegant_  to even Lenneth's eye – there was a natural beauty that needed little accentuation to make her lovely. The subtle set of her shoulder made her look  _brave_ , ready to face the best and worse life had to offer in an instant. Her pure, clear eyes showed keen intellect – their depth radiating a  _resourceful_  nature and  _astute_  mind. A general sense of  _loyalty_  permeated every pore of her moral being – to Odin such obedience was a prize beyond measure. She was even a trifle  _sacrificing_ , not overly so to the point of being self-destructive but enough for the trait to seem admirable, clearly she was more noble of spirit than she was in wealth. It was rare indeed when the fortunate truly served the greater good, many times those who possessed wealth never used it to help any save themselves but this one truly did. It was more than Lenneth could say about her recently departed predecessor. The previous High Priest of Crell Monferaigne had been a miserly old fool who ambitions had been seen to fruition at the expense of the peasant congregations. By contrast Renata seemed altogether modest…

The train of her robes and gown were both of a modest length, no great fortune being put to purchase or amass great amounts of grand or costly fabric in an effort to show off. As Renata walked at a stately and serene pace through the streets, she went by a group of children, all vying and squabbling silently amongst themselves from the sidelines for a view of her. A girl fell, landing upon her train, nearly tripping the princess up from behind, she stopped and turned her gaze upon the girl as both parents came up to reclaim their child with mortified apologies flying from their lips. They were silenced in an instant when she raised her hand, palm up flat in their direction before she walked towards the children.

If there was much to be said she was just, she offered gentle admonishments to the older boys responsible for the little girl's tumble before turning to the girl. The Princess graced the terrified youth with a demure smile of reassurance before offering her a hand in getting to her feet. The girl took it clearly neither the girl nor her parents willing to offer insult by refusing the help. Then she kindly asked the little girl to accompany her to the front, to carrying her train to prevent any more such accidents despite how unlikely it was there would be any more of them. The shy girl squeaked an affirmative and joined Renata upon the remainder of her walk forward. The crowd visibly relaxed and the ceremony continued as if nothing had happened.

Compassionate, kind as well, it reminded Lenneth of her younger sister – Silmeria, of what she had heard of her younger sister if the widespread rumors about Silmeria's innate kindness were indeed true. She hoped they were, Lenneth would never likely meet either of her sisters in the flesh because of the fact only one Valkyrie was active upon Midgard at once. It meant rumors were the only input she had to go on, the closest she'd get to knowing OF them. She would never truly know them personally, she knew it and long ago accepted that fact but still she wanted to believe that the both of them were of good dispositions or at least as fair as she was.

By the time they the Princess and her 'attendant' had made their way to the altar, to the end of the procession the girl's fear had ebbed giving way to bubbling excitement which was only too clear in the way she rushed back to her parents all the while bragging to her brothers after she'd received both a personal blessing and a kind dismissal from the Princess Renata. The stray thoughts of her own sisters were thoughts Lenneth never should have languished in, it was a momentary lapse of attention, a personal weakness she hated herself for, for that became the moment the undead chose to strike.

Lenneth vaulted downward towards the fray erupting below her vantage point in an instant, uncharacteristically single-minded in her pursuit of the undead. She was eager to do away with their presence, so eager that the trajectory of a spell's path missed her notice. It collided with her, knocking the wind out of her, knocking her out of the air and onto the roof of a house. As she lunged to her feet she saw a dark figure approaching her, his outline visible against the light of the full moon, "My apologies," in almost nervous gesture she saw him use his index finger to press the bridge of his glasses up his nose, a smile that was almost charming falling upon his lips as he surveyed her, his obvious delight in seeing her almost made her feel unclean, "pardon me, Lady Lenneth, may I cut in?"

* * *

As shadow danced at the edge of her periphery it seemed petty, not to mention inappropriate, to turn to her uncle and say 'I told you so'

Renata immediately flew into action before half of the guard realized what was going on, she didn't have time to spell it out for them. Her right hand tore a bow out of one of the guard's hands, her left gripping a hold of an arrow from the quiver at the guardsman's waist while she interposed herself between her uncle and the threat, moments later the arrow was embedded dead center in a vampire's chest, right in the heart. She threw the bow back at the guard, unwilling to deprive him of a weapon when he needed to defend himself with so many threats nearby. The guards swarmed around her as she searched for a weapon, her eyes falling upon a nearby surface where a curved artful ceremonial blade was laid out, sheathed but a feasible weapon, one she could use to defend herself with. She ripped it out of its sheath in one smooth, fluid motion instantly throwing it in a graceful arc in the forehead of a second vampire.

A third vampire jumped down to confront her as she bent down to retrieve the weapon, grabbing her left wrist in an attempt to subdue her from behind. A good attempt but altogether useless, she steeled her shoulders, pivoting as she charged, throwing all her weight into her charge as her hand tightened on the blade's hilt pulling it free of the undead corpse swinging it until it was embedded in flesh at the base of the third vampire's neck, only a few short minutes away from being a new corpse if not for the fact she had a few questions to ask, "Why are you here?"

The vampire's eyes flared vivid crimson at the sound of her voice, fangs bared into a snarl as it hissed in pain at the holy blade at its neck.

 _Wrong answer_ , she thought, digging it in deeper and satisfied to hear an outcry of pain as its lips peeled away from serrated inhumane fangs, "Speak quickly now or die that much sooner."

It choked out an answer of two words, "You! Valkyrie!" it made the last word sound like the gravest of insults.

Renata recoiled as if shocked by the use of such a term or name especially when applied to her – a loyal servant of the Gods, absolutely but a goddess herself, pure and utter heresy, absolutely UN-true. She had pride but even she was not that full of herself not enough to commit such blasphemy, she hoped no others heard such an epithet directed at her, it was sacrilegious nonsense but still enough to condemn her if others heard her referred as a goddess within flesh, a legendary battle maiden of lore.

The result was instantaneous; she followed her planned intent to the letter. Eyes flared into flinty orbs the EXACT color of bluebell flames, left hand tightening a hold on the vampire's hair while her right directed the blade to sink forward through flesh, bone, sinew, and spine severing its head resolutely much in the way she wanted to sever its lying tongue. Fastidious breath came through her nostrils, she was beyond incensed by the audacity of this attack but for them to say it was motivated, caused by her, for her - that was too much, too far!

Anger wasn't allowed to fester long, she felt a hand pulling at her shoulder, pulling her away from engaging another vampire and another and another until they were all gone from this place, from her home. Shock went through her as she heard a human snarl at her ear from behind, it sounded almost displeased as she couldn't understand the why of it, "Get out of here!"

Renata reared back, pulling her shoulder out of the grasp, blunt human teeth bared in a snarl of her own, "NO! I can fight!"

"You will NOT!" the voice was so familiar in anger, in rage that she realized suddenly that she'd spoken thusly to her uncle - the King, his word was still absolute, still law even over her. She'd forgotten herself in her battle induced rage, was it any wonder why the lunatic vampire had thought her to be an immortal goddess of battle upon his own deathbed, with one foot in his unholy grave in crossing her path, in challenging her like this? At once she recovered as much of her sense and composure as she could, sure that she looked more the part of undead hellion than the High Priestess she was. Her uncle must've of noticed, "Get her out of here!" his tone disgusted, hands pulling at her and pushing her at his own private guard.

"No!" she instantly steeled herself in challenge, the thought of being utterly useless like the rest of the noblewomen repugnant beyond measure.

"My lady," the tone was the most soothing and delightful she'd ever heard, like silken fur against satin skin. A long time ago she fancied marrying the one who belonged to that voice, growing old hearing that voice, she still fancied Zadkiel despite the fact of his half-noble bastard pedigree, no way the nobility would allow THAT beside her on the throne but he was still the one who held her dreams when it came to the choice of a male. She was relatively sure that the attraction was mutual, that she could have him if she wanted him. Zadkiel had sworn to be her champion before they'd been let out of their nurseries, he'd been head of her guard since she'd first warranted such personal protection, "we really should get you and the Queen Mother," her aunt, "out of here."

Still reluctant to agree she nevertheless nodded in assent to his logic sure that now was not the time to contest her uncle's will and rouse his own volatile temper. Unfortunately it seemed like they already did that, her uncle glaring lividly at Zadkiel as if he'd gone over his head in getting her to listen, to agree to suggestive logic over her King's command. In a way, Zadkiel had, in showing her uncle that his words had more meaning, more weight than his own as family member or ruler.

"That will be all, KNIGHT," that was an insult since Zadkiel could hold no greater rank than his own of Paladin. Zadkiel didn't rise to such bait, just bowed his head as if he'd received the greatest of compliments instead of the gravest of insults, "With your leave, my lord..."

"No! My own personal guard will see to the protection of my own family. You will stay here to be of and render service!"

A glance to Renata, as her champion alone he owed his loyalty more to her than their own King meaning he needed her blessing to be dismissed from attending to her own protection in favor of other tasks or orders. Renata feared for his life if he did not heed or obey the King so she assented wordlessly, watching in utter silence as Zadkiel strode away, almost instantly absorbed by the chaos of the battle surrounding them on all sides save at their backs. Others were not so lucky to have at least one direction open and safe, she cursed the presence of that openness for it was meant for her retreat. Her heart felt like it had sunk into her gut, ready to be carved out if anything should happen to Zadkiel personally.

"Here!" she turned and was pleasantly surprised to see him extending Odin's Favor out to her, "regardless of formality it is your right to have this as your own possession now. Pray for us all, High Priestess."

Humbled by his own humble display, his change of heart, she nodded, "I intend to. Uncle, I know you and I don't always see eye to eye but know that I love you."

In that moment King Ilker looked like he'd been struck across the face with a stick or fist, stricken with a private weariness, "I know," tone as ashen as his face, "now, GO!"

She did.

* * *

As reluctant as he had been to acquiesce at the time it was proposed Brahms was glad he had not been amongst the first to confront Renata seen as the three who thus far tried – two primes and one elder, were now dead as a result. A part of him, the one that was Vampire King, wanted to gnash his teeth over the losses but another part, the male within him, had to admire the dangerous beauty of her battle rage, the nigh effortless way she'd dispatched them. If things continued like this for long it would be more costly to take her alive and despite his threats his people might choose to attempt to kill her out of survival. He couldn't, wouldn't let that have a chance of happening; he charged in her direction, going after her in her retreat and was gratified to see that they'd made his job easier. Isolating her by removing her from the fray AND a majority of her guard, it couldn't have gone better unless he planned it himself, paltry security and all.

His feet bounded over the rooftops without sound, the height of the buildings gave him the advantage of a better view of the surrounding area: its threats, its advantages, and most of all - his prey. If he was on the street, level with them he'd possibly be able to be ambushed, picked off since he was on his own. Sounds from behind made him turn and he realized he was not alone, not having to go this on his own. Nevertheless his first impulse was to make them realize that this was HIS hunt, a snarl leaping to his lips revealing fangs bared, ready for any challenge. With none forthcoming his eyes turned back to the group, his vampires watching and waiting for the command, for when to leap into action and hunt. Without having to think he declared the scarlet clad huntress as his own prey, none were to touch or approach Renata, she was his.

As for the rest of the guard he didn't much care about them, it was all the better if he didn't have to waste his time dealing with the small details of dispatching their annoying presence. How long did he have to get Renata and get her out of here before Odin ordered the strike that would kill her? That would see another innocent host slain? Brahms did not intend to find out. A hiss came out through his bared fangs; it was too silent for the mortal guards to hear it but just audible to his own vampires. At that moment his quarry turned, the piercing azure fire of her eyes gazing out as if searching for them in the darkness. Brahms relaxed, relieved when he realized that she could sense their proximity but not direction or number but within moments he cursed taking comfort upon that fact, she still roused alarm in the guards, "Undead, they approach!"

It was a costly mistake, a mistake made over the course of a few short seconds but it was enough, enough time for the mortals - obviously their best, time enough to draw weapons and turn upon the first vampires to heed and jump down at his command. Nothing could be done to restore the primes struck down before their time; now that the mistake was made he could only keep it from exacerbating further into something out of his control. He jumped down, several elders had already helped themselves to the soldiers who'd downed the primes, having used their unfortunate lessers as a means for distraction, a means to distract the humans long enough for them to subdue, feed, and grow stronger. It was the one true advantage the vampires had - to grow stronger in the face of their enemies' weakness.

Brahms fist closed around the helmed head of the leader, the crude strength of his palm contracting the metal inward upon the head, the action wrung a strangled breath accompanied by a desperate and blind swing at the Vampire King's midriff. Instinctively he jumped back, his tactic of using the helm to crush the skull inward under pressure changing in an instant. His grip upon the head never broke but instead of putting all his strength inward upon the helm he gripped a hold of the mortal's head, his strength going into picking up the mortal with effortless ease by his head. The neck instantly snapped under the pressure of such a movement, the hand's grip upon the blade slackening. Brahms dropped the dead weight to the side of the street as he heard the tensile sound of a bow being release, going off in his direction. His gaze snapped in the direction of the sound, realizing an arrow was still a threat even if it was a small one.

His claws snagged the arrow out of the air; a rare feeling of panic going through him as he realized that the thick crude stake of wood and silver held enchantments, infused with the power of true faith and it was only a few centimeters short of his skin, the point was just short of its surface. Alarm went up through him, he didn't even need to look up to know who had fired the shot but he needed the confirmation. Renata. Her perfect mouth was curved in an incensed scowl of fury at her shot being a waste, at being denied his life but she turned, pushing a matronly noblewoman before her up the stairs of the palace before fleeing. Devoid of protection even the Princess realized it was folly to stay, to try to take them all on but for a moment longer Brahms was shocked, so shocked it took him a few moment to resume chase but resumed it he did.

* * *

To protect - that was Renata's first instinct, if the Undead were after anything it would be to make anarchy and chaos out of this night, to cause widespread terror upon what should have been a nice of peace and celebration. How quickly all those expectations had fallen apart, no one would rest in peace this evening, none save the undead that were killed. A smile came to her lips at the thought of her own death count before she'd been sent away. Her blood boiled at the thought of leaving the King, not seeing to his protection herself when they were sure to be after his life but a part of her sadly registered the fact she had no right to demand to be present. She was no longer a soldier, she was a veteran - a soldier in the past but right now she was civilian and skills aside she was a liability they had to protect as well. A fine job they had done of that, the entire guard that had accompanied them slaughtered despite the warning she'd given them. Truly it was humiliating that the King's Guard was subdued so easily, easily enough that their 'charges' or a 'charge' had to take arms to protect another charge.

Within a few moments Renata realized that she couldn't trust her own or her aunt's safety to them. Entrusting Odin's Favor to the Queen, she'd recovered a bow from the dead; there was no way she'd risk getting blood upon the artifact or defiling it by touching it while she touched the dead. In those few minutes she only managed a few shots but it was enough to make several back off. It was strange; they fell upon and challenged the guard yet backed off when it came to her? It was as if they were restraining themselves, purposefully choosing not to cross path or touch her. Devoid of other targets she'd turned her attention upon the monstrous bulk of a fierce male.

It was a shame that he was a corpse, his paleness proclaimed him for what he was but still even her eyes had to admire him. Every part of him from his mane of hair to the tips of his toes seemed to radiate pure masculinity, the best example of it she'd ever seen. It was a shame he was dead, it was QUITE obvious why he'd been turned and she'd bet good money that his vampiric sire wasn't a sire at all but a dam, a female. She almost wasted a moment to be jealous before she remembered the fact that it wouldn't matter, he would be dead this night and at her hand, the worse she'd have to contemplate was confronting said bitch in a fit of vengeance. As she angled the bow down upon where his husk of a heart laid her eyes couldn't help but appraise the smooth expanse of muscles along that open chest. If they weren't enemies she almost had the impulse to run her hands over that open skin to see if they were really 'real', seen as he was an inhuman monster it was likely a fringe benefit he'd gotten in the transition from human to not so human, to becoming something not remotely human.

Renata had seen hesitation kill others so she didn't practice it herself even though she wanted one more moment to devote to gazing at him, admiring him as one would a wolf. This male was clearly a danger to her but there was a predatory intent and nature she had to respect, that she craved to see one last time before she'd slay him. Her control snapped the impulse in half and her arrow flew but by that time his inhumane reflexes had allowed him to catch it. Shock forced the breath clean out of her, he'd caught it but her alarm came from the way his crimson eyes met her. From the beginning she'd wanted to look defiantly into those crimson depths but she'd rejected the foolishness of that, afraid that if those crimson eyes consumed her she'd never claw her way out of them. Her legs seemed to falter as if dead, useless weight under the scrutiny of his gaze, all that was left to her and all she was able to do was stumble. Her hand came to rest upon her aunt's arm, using it to steady her as she pulled herself out of the mire of his eyes. Damn, they should have been repugnant to her but they were lovely and much like quicksand - captivating and nigh impossible to escape. It took great effort to snap free before his pupils could tighten on the sight of her, great effort to keep her eyes from wandering back to his - half pulling her aunt, half dragging herself as they rushed the remainder of the way into the palace, "Bar those doors, NOW!"

She didn't waste time to look around for anyone or any guards, hoping and assuming that some were present. There were several guards and even a few alarmed servants through their weight into pushing the massive doors closed and slamming the bar down just in time for the wood to shudder and absorb the weight of an impact from the outside. A foreign fear curled through her as her eyes remained riveted upon the door, to see if it would hold out - it did.

* * *

Something unexplainable happened to her, came over to her as the beads brushed over her soft palms. Evadne's perfect fingers curled around the pearls, eyes closing as if to ponder for understanding the impulse suddenly flung upon her, an impulse that never would have crossed her mind on its own - to kill, to kill Renata. A part of her rebelled, trying to throw the impulse aside as panic rose inside her. As the panic rose the thought returned, rearing its ugly head.

_They have come here for her..._

The more she tried to deny it, the more it made sense. There had been little to mistake of what she'd seen just now in the street, that vampire had wanted her own niece. His whole body had tensed up, his eyes widened, fangs bared as if he'd seen a ghost in seeing Renata before him. Still yet there were other small clues that nagged at her attention: why had they attacked tonight, why had they attacked in the middle of the ceremony rather than the celebrations, why had they targeted the altar if it wasn't to kill the true leaders of Crell Monferaigne. Their actions truly puzzled her, Evadne was not like Renata, she was no battle ready Priestess but she had plenty of time to observe what was going on around her, it was what she did best, it is what she'd done the whole of her life – watched and waited.

Evadne could not begin to fathom why they'd attacked during the formalities instead of attacking when everyone's minds were slow with drink and light on their feet in the midst of dance, that could have been hindsight that they didn't take advantage of but once the fight erupted it became obvious that their intent was skewed towards the front. Renata had been amongst the first to act, slaying those who dropped down but they away came at Renata, ALWAYS near Renata. It was absurd to be affronted by the idea that her husband and her didn't warrant much of their attention but even once everyone had been roused they continued to focus on the front, throwing themselves into the fray but they weren't throwing their lives at King Ilker's hands, no, they were throwing themselves at Renata. Then wasn't there the fact of what Evadne had been told, what she'd seen this evening? Renata herself had told her the undead approach, Evadne had seen the awareness of the Undead's presence in her eyes twice and it had been eerie as Hel.

Undeniably the Undead had some sort of fascination with Renata, that and for a long time Evadne had been coming to the slow realization that Renata held some connection with the undead through her ability alone. Whether it was god-given or not the ability was a perverse curse if it meant attracting the undead, a curse better purged from Renata than sustained even if it meant her death in the process. And how far back did the interest of the Undead in Renata go? If the undead had truly wanted Renata, how plausible it could be that Renata had been the target of the attack upon Aredhel. A shiver went down her spine, that attack had happened a mere couple of days after Renata's birth, had they attacked Aredhel in the hopes they might claim the child within her womb, prematurely?

Her resolve hardened, the undead took EVERYTHING from her but she'd rather Renata be taken by her own hand than allow the Undead to have the only thing left to her. The betrayal would hurt, it would kill her to kill Renata but maybe at last there could be peace at the end. Renata would be beyond the reach of the Undead and for herself, she'd finally be free. If Renata was gone then there would be nothing left for her in this life, she could finally lie down and accept the death she'd desired for so very long. No more humiliation or hatred to endure. Evadne's hand tightened on the ceremonial dagger that Renata had handed her with Odin's Favor. While she'd been lost in her thoughts, it had been like sleep walking, walking in the physical world but her mind had been elsewhere, a far away elsewhere. The Queen's eyes blinked as she realized they were alone, alone in a dark room, the wide open expanse of a ballroom almost between them before Renata had turned around to glance at her.

"You are unharmed?" the girl's voice was a shock to hear but as was typical for Renata her tone was unshaken.

"I am," her own was soft and numb; Evadne was trying to work up her nerve as she crossed the room. Silently she wished it hadn't come to all this, Renata turned her back to her, visibly she was looking outside the windows, ever-vigilant about the threats that could be outside but never suspecting that she would be one, she though bleakly. Evadne inhaled deep in silence, her fingers brushing the golden tresses out of the way of the heart flesh. She wanted her blow to be quick; painless it would be crude enough just based on the fact that Evadne did not know how to use a weapon she handled now, contemplated using now. It was the strangest impulse but somehow she couldn't stand the thought of Renata's hair being bloodstained, her own hands but not Renata's hair. A new wave of remorse went through her, not the hair she'd brushed and seen grown out throughout the course of this young woman's life.

 _No more delays,_ she thought as she leveled the blade in line with Renata's heart from behind, there is no way she'd be able to face her and do the act – it HAD to be from behind but it never happened. Glass shattered in an instant but even though she was aware of it, it felt like it took both her and Renata time to react to it, the time was too long. Evadne felt a hand tear through her body, shattering her rib cage and shredding an entire lung. The blow sent her into instant shock but still she felt a vengeful, painful grip throw her down upon the floor, showing no care whatsoever in how she landed. Evadne struggled to breathe around the red ruin of her torso but in a spiteful instance her hand pushed the blade across the floor to Renata's feet, Odin's Favor was entwined and tangled in the hilt. Amongst the last moment of her live, their eyes met but Evadne struggled to bring out her words before she could depart this life, "Odin awaits…"

The metallic weapon made a scraping sound that the undead seemed to follow, in an instant he was done dealing with her and going after Renata next. Evadne's last thoughts were hoping that Renata was with her, to meet her on the other side.

* * *

_Odin awaits…_

It took her a moment to realize it wasn't some mad rambling done upon her death; it was a message, a message of last resort. Her eyes widened in immediate understanding but just as swiftly she felt dwarfed by the weight of what it demanded, what kind of sacrifice was expected of her. It was humiliating that she didn't act upon it at once, that she even felt she had to think upon it but it was easier to say she'd adhere to such a wish than it was ever easy to actually do it, to follow through with. Fingers curled around the hilt and she pulled back from the Undead, it was the same one as before, she shot him a defiant look, raising it above her chest, knowing she'd need the height and distance of the blade away from her chest to get it through her ribs. Her hands folded against the dagger, pointing in inward with a steady grip as she brought it down without pause or hesitation. Once the blade's descent started she knew she had to keep it going to get it through her chest cavity, into the heart but it seemed like it would never reach its mark and it never did.

Whispered words broke her contemplative silence – half-statement, half-plead,  _"I don't want to die!"_  it seemed as if it was coming over great distance, confronting greater resistance as it came closer and closer. However, every resistance it met only made the original voice, its plea, stronger. Other voices joined and echoing the first as the thought stretched outward like ripples in a pond – small at the source, growing larger the more it extended out.

It made her freeze, looking around for the source even though instinctively she thought she'd heard it in her mind; it was all in her head. It was enough to make her stop the blade's progression, the thought that she might be killing someone in killing herself. Clawed hands closed around her wrists yanking them apart and pushing the blade away from her. It took her a moment to think herself down, the idea of sharing her body with anyone was absurd and it was a trick – a vampire's trick, she thought with particular venom when she found one standing before her, holding her captive with eyes full of rage and fear?

Renata understood the first but not the second, frankly she wasn't sure if the undead were smart enough to understand the notion of 'fear' but she was NOT going to be any mortal toy to a vampire or worse, transition into an undead herself. The vampire was struggling to get the blade to where it pointed away from her own body, he was rather successful in that but he failed to notice what she did, the blade was almost perfectly poised for her to charge and turn it upon him instead. Her mouth curved into a snarl and instantly she pushed all her weight into getting the blade to sink down into him. The fact she was able to push it down at all, against his vampire's strength was evidence that she'd gotten the drop on him, that he had not been expecting her to attempt to gut him if she couldn't gut herself. Even long after he easily stopped her progress she continued to try to drive that blade down into him. His fangs bared into an almost amused smile moments before that descended hard upon her own. Renata went rigid in his grasp, a tremor going through her at his tongue pierced and penetrated into her mouth, heady feelings instantly chasing away her sense, her logic, all the all-so-important things that make up one's judgment.

_She'd never been kissed_ _before._

The sensation of it was near powerful enough to make her fall head of heels dizzy within mere minutes, mute with wonderment. The instant their lips touched who or what they were didn't matter, the kiss had chemistry, one that made no sense nor did it need to in that moment. A pure spike of undeniable pleasure tore through her as her lips parted to his questing tongue, originating between her legs, a delightful instantaneous spark that branched out to suffuse every nerve - significant and insignificant. Delicious heat melted between them as his tongue stroked her slowly, intimately; the feeling of that mere brush of his rough velvet muscle traveling deep beneath her skin, it sent a shiver through her along with the stupid impulse to give in, to allow her feet to collapse so she could melt into that tempting embrace of his. It was too late for her by the time she realized, when she realized that she'd given in, given herself over to the Vampire King.

Startled at once she looked up into his eyes and read no death for her in those eyes but there was something else there - possession, there was no escape for her either...

_What had she done?_


	5. Evadne

Lenneth recovered quickly, stiffening into a defensive position, allowing stoic silence to settle between them. Lezard dearly wished his sneak attack, getting the drop on Lenneth would have incited her anger enough to get her to speak. No matter the time period, the reaction of anger seemed to be the only kind of emotion that he could elicit but he would have gladly weathered it for the sound of her voice even laced with scorn.

The last time they'd met she'd spoken to him thusly but Lezard had still indulged in getting condemnation from her, willing to take Lenneth or her attention any way he remotely could but he ever wanted more. Lezard could never get enough of her. When he had first spied her, seen her within the glassy veiled depths of the Philosopher's Stone that sight had been enough but over time it grew to be an empty pleasure at most. It had led to insane means exercised all in order to possess her. It had not been enough, one right could not possibly cancel or make her overlook all the wrongs he committed thus why he was here now, for a second chance, to impress her in the past in the way he couldn't in his time, their joint future.

For once Lezard had been taken off guard, unprepared. He had been expecting Hrist but despite that fact he was pleased, ever so pleased to see her. Initially he had designed a spell for the likes of Hrist, a spell devised to get the Dark Valkyrie as good as she would undoubtedly give in challenge to the like of one like himself. Then he had seen it was Lenneth, his tactics changed, what would have killed an Einherjar and made Hrist suffer instead became a spell that could only be called a minor irritant at best, barely ineffectual if it could be called even that.

The goddess surveyed him for his next move but it merely amused him, he was arrogantly delighted by her eyes upon him even burning as they were. By now he had dropped the expectation that she'd speak to him so it was a surprise when she spoke suddenly, "My name, how do you know it?"

Lenneth's tone of voice said nothing of her unease, the tone was firm, unwilling to give to Lezard anything upon which he could learn something further about her or come to sense something useful he could seize upon to use against her. Lezard again pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose, a pleased smile curving at his lips but he dampened even that small victory, the one of hearing her voice, so Lenneth wouldn't believe he was mocking her, "A funny thing that is…even for the divine…there is plenty, a multitude of ways for others to learn things out about you whether you want them to or not."

"The likes of my name is nothing you could learn upon a common street or in the secluded corner of a tavern after dark," a curl of her lips, tone openly disdainful told Lezard she thought he could be either from the lower class or a drunk. Lezard knew he was neither so he didn't take offense from her comment or the assumptions. Frankly, he never expected the Lenneth would tolerate a drunk and she certainly was lovely enough to make even the most drunk consider going 'cold' – instantly dropping a long-lasting habit for a chance with her. If that was the LEAST of his problems he certainly would. Her eyes said different from her voice however, her voice held a tone of disdain; her eyes were veiling a look that had, upon first sight, able to be mistaken as appraising? Now NO remnants of such remained, it was as if she'd never shown it, never shown herself to be anything less than hard and implacable. Receiving no answer was not likely to improve Lenneth's mood and talking with her might very well distract her. Spending any amount of time with Lenneth would be time well spent as long as he came out of it alive. A wry smile came to his lips as he realized that could be made a reality if he wasn't careful around her.

"Are you so eager to meet your death that you meet it with a smile?"

"If you are death than yes.'

"I am Valkyrie, Chooser of the Slain and you may call me such, nothing MORE or LESS!"

"A shame, I preferred a first name basis."

* * *

It was a mistake to gaze directly into his eyes as Renata momentarily lost herself in the deep expansive crimson depths. Her chest rising and falling in deep breaths as she recovered from the kiss, her mind momentarily dazed by her breathlessness. His scrutiny was unnerving and she bit her lip in an uncharacteristic sign of social anxiety only to feel a strange damp bead accompany the soft tone of copper. In an instant the spell was broken, his eyes immediately riveted by the sight of her blood and Renata remembering just WHAT he was. Her body corded with tension as she attempted to fight him, to pull free but her struggles only made his arms curl more tightly around her, binding her arms to her sides as her chest heaved with her efforts, making her breasts press against his muscles, her body molding almost perfectly against him. The physical synergy between them only made her more desperate and to her detriment she made the mistake of ignoring him even as he brought his lips down upon hers.

This time his kiss was less ruthless and more sensual but not that it was any less effective, his tongue sweeping against the trail of her blood and then drawing her lip against his as he senusually suckled it. The brief spike of pain accompanied that tender sweetness as she realized he'd done it on purpose, he'd NICKED her with his fangs and even now availed himself of her blood. Renata again struggled but each and every movement seemed fruitless as his body was completely unmoving. Already she felt herself tiring, her muscles wracked with tiredness after fleeing, after fighting her way to safety while he remained unmoving as he smiled down at her as if asking 'are you finished?

Renata's flinty azure gaze flared defiantly and his lips sighed almost audibly against hers as though pushed to an extreme that he didn't want to fall back upon. The vampire abruptly pinning one arm against his muscled bulk while his clawed grip curled around her other arm, twisting it behind her back with enough force that her breath caught in sharp intake. Renata could not seem to keep track of him, his movements too inhumanely swift and her disadvantage too great, a disparity that grew with each passing moment as his free hand gently but forcefully gripped her pale gold tresses and pulled down with a sharp yank, the spike of pain drawing a sharp gasp of pain while baring the expanse of her neckline. Too late, she was TOO slow even as his fangs sharply pierced into the column of her throat turning her pain into pleasure. Renata again attempted to fight, to strike but his fangs merely tightened their chokehold on her slender throat, the vice-like grip of his bite forcing her to yield, to surrender mere moments before she lost herself to his first pulls and melted against him replete of strength amidst pleasure. Her strength abandoning her in her moment of need even as he grew stronger FOR her weakness, this conflict had been decided before it started, she had merely been too stubborn to see or accept it.

* * *

Alicia could never quite get used to the chaos of the battlefield neither in her time as a host to Silmeria, an Einherjar to Hrist, OR during her time with Rufus, Lezard, and Brahms. Alicia could never forgive the Gods for what they'd done but neither had all of them been wholly indifferent, wholly cruel. Alicia didn't share Brahms vendetta or begin to understand Lezard's motivations but she understood the wrongs done to Rufus, to Silmeria, to Dipan and her people. With so many impacted by the Gods it was impossible NOT to be enmeshed in this conflict but still she couldn't get comfortable. Many of these they warred against didn't know any better, didn't know any alternative except to obey and serve blindly so she resolved to lead, to temper and guide the efforts of the vampires in such a way that she might keep them on track, to minimize damage and protect the innocent while serving the greater good but not ALL agreed with her in this aim.

The Vampires for one, in Brahms absence his dame, the venerable Lady Almedha was in charge of the vanguard. At present Alicia was tuning her out as Almedha was intuitive and astute but prone to brutal efficiency. In Alicia's mind you didn't need to look far to realize where Brahms had gotten his 'rough edges' though in truth Alicia thought Brahms more controlled, more honorable than his progenitress leading her to believe that perhaps Silmeria's soothing hold on him was substantial even in her absence.

"...we should use the opportunity to place spies in Crell Monferaigne, sleepers. We won't get an opportunity like this for a while. Our conflict is eternal, without end in sight, there is no harm in being prepared for better OR worse. See it done."

Alicia couldn't suppress a sigh as she wondered what she was doing here, what purpose she was serving. They would be fighting throughout the night, until they were forced to flee at dawn but here she was idling at Almedha's insistence, the vampiress claiming that those who were independent of daylight's dogma were best utilized upon the retreat. In theory it was sound but she hated staying safe even as everyone else risked themselves.

_I don't want to fight but I refuse to be useless._

Alicia didn't see how she was benefitting ANYONE as she was currently and grabbed her blade as she left. No one even seemed to notice her departure as she strode towards the battlefield, at the very least she could ensure the safety of her own 'remnants', her rebels.

* * *

The mage was troublesome, good enough she couldn't just kill him off but she almost hardly dared to believe and refused to acknowledge that he was PLAYING with her!

However there was NO mistaking the thought as he danced, more like PRANCED, around her smirking and smiling as if NOTHING delighted him more than seeing her snarl which she did as she swiped at him. Her blade collided with a pale azure figure of ice, her blade sliced through his magic but in the ensuing time frame the mage had up and vanished again, forcing her to turn, to find him. Many times she had thought to simply withdraw, leaving this mad magician to his deranged talent for trouble only finding him seeking her, engaging her in battle again and again and again.

He was mortal, how could he even BEGIN to compare with her power but by no means was he putting forth all his best efforts to bring her down. Maybe that much had been genuine; his desire of her but it would be his undoing. The Valkyries were a thing of battlefield beauty but they were meant to be feared as much as they were admired. The way the mage looked at her was downright insulting, infuriating. Lenneth had to urge to teach him a lesson, one that she should have been above feeling and acting upon.

The truth of the matter was she had no choice, she HAD to get through him, he was obviously trying to draw her into this confrontation. Every time she tried to sidestep confronting him he got in the way, drew her attention. It was beyond him being pestilential; he was not a minor distraction but a major one, one that she had to quell before she could go on. Failure was NOT an option, Odin had made it clear that Renata was to be recovered whatever the cost, that others would attempt to pursue and claim her. Clearly this mage was one of those who acted not only to keep her from her goal but to buy others time. It would be less infuriating if he weren't so successful.

AGAIN her eyes darted, searching as she gazed at the clearing; the buildings were unremarkable, made to last but not against the fury of an immortal goddess. Furiously she sliced a lantern clean in two even as she cautiously looked around. Did she DARE to hope that he'd pulled away and moved on? It had been a foolish indulgence at best, a massive sigil flaring to life and covering an immense section of the Holy City. Lenneth didn't have time to think save to run, her feet propelling her as she sought to escape the radius while attempting to vault upward. If he DIED then he couldn't complete the spell, she could save many, MANY more than simply herself.

Such a spell took time, took preparation, how had she'd MISSED magic of this magnitude? The ONLY benefit is that igniting the magic took time but did she have enough time to stop him? Lenneth leapt, charging at the mage but he avoided her, dancing out of reach of arm or blade, her blade meeting at the foundation. By that time the mage had warped and recovered enough to send a spell her way - a lance of flame, another pitiful one not truly capable of doing any great measure of damage to her person. At the last minute she dodged but it allowed him to further his own aim. The sigil well defined as his ether bled into the magick.

Lenneth Valkyrie used the buildings as leverage, ever rising even as she cursed that these human constructs that kept her from making easy use of her wings. So intent was she on putting the mage down that she didn't notice a second greater magic spawned upon the heels of his first.

' _If you seek respite from your empty existence, you shalt have it, Lady Valkyrie….'_ it was ALL the warning she got as bolt after bolt of arcane light slammed down from above, these bolts materialized from seeming nothingness. Some she avoided but it was impossible to avoid them all. The result being that she fell back upon the ground even as he finished his spell. The result was cataclysmic to her psyche, the rebound of SO MANY souls reverberating across her consciousness was alarming and crippling as hundreds of souls were lost in ONE instant which is nothing compared to the chaos of rubble and ruin around them killing many, MANY more, "Did you like that, Lady Valkyrie?"

Lenneth survived by her right as a Goddess but it was with effort and using her blade that she rose and was ALARMED to see the Mage nearly within reach, right in front of her. It was a shame she was still throwing off the throes of spiritual agony surrounding them when she hissed, "WHO are you?!"

"Lezard Valeth, Lady Valkyrie," if she didn't CARE about his identity before she did now, his amethyst eyes burned with admiration even as she recovered and she felt a slight brush against her cheek as he took a thick lock of hair that had fallen from her braid. That was TOO MUCH, she leap forward her blade slipping free of the ground and swiping in an arc between them. Lezard was gone but materialized several feet away with only a tear in his cloak but he smirked as if supremely pleased and that is when she saw his fingers were curled possessively around a pale azure lock of hair, HER hair, cleaved by her own blade and so carelessly stolen from her.

Lenneth lunged forward again but her blade sliced through empty air, the mage vanishing with his stolen prize and a smirking smile as he laughed in delight. Again, attuned through her spiritual concentration to worthy souls, the last thoughts of the dying woman, the dying Queen of Crell Monferaigne plagued her. In truth, Lenneth wanted to turn, to meet the threat of the Undead but she forced herself to sheath her blade as her angelic wings surfaced, extending to capture the wind securely as she rose higher, knowing where to go to collect Evadne, she simply hoped she was not too late for the one she came for, for Renata.

* * *

It might've been a mistake, a violation, wrong but Brahms could not resist the impulse, nearly as caught up in the moment as much as she was from the first pull on her vein, the first flutter of her delicate pulse beneath his lips. Initially when he felt the resistance in her body, the tension in her muscles he'd known have naught from her but a struggle and it was one he could ill afford, there was too much on the line. Lezard fought to delay the Valkyrie even as his populace, his people fought to exact as much personal pain and vengeance upon the hated followers of the Divine but they were deluding themselves if they didn't calculate that their vengeance would come with a cost, a cost that he would bear the blame for as their leader. How many Primes and Elders would be lost by dawn? In one night of fighting? For immortals time was NOT on their side in this regard. To say nothing about his haste to retreat with a recalcitrant Renata. Survival took priority for both his people AND Silmeria which meant NO delays not even from HER.

The warm rush of blood was a heady delight and one it took him time to wean himself from. To the Divines and mortals alike the appetite and fare of choice for the Undead was depraved, a crime against nature but only the Undead vampires had the highly developed tastes capable of discerning flavor. Renata's blood was spicy-sweet, sensual and addicting and not unlike his first time with Silmeria. WIth regret Brahms recalled his first feeding, of Silmeria captive and his thirst surging forward to overtake him, regretting the fact his first feeding with her had ALSO been against her will, a product of necessity and manipulation. Now as a matured vampire, an Elder, it wasn't so much 'need' as a matter of want, he desired her but this was the only way he could have her. However he possessed enough awareness that he shielded and refrained from suffusing himself in the torrent of her emotion and memories that accompanied his selfish indulgence. Brahms knew he was already committing ONE form of violation and couldn't bring himself to do another, his mouth tightening as he imagined her hatred, her rebuke, her infuriated response if she knew he could so easily breach her mind.

_If only your heart were so easy…_

That tight pressure upon the column of her throat further imposed his sheer physical will upon her, her body weakening with each pull until she finally surrendered fully. Her legs melting as her form sank into his embrace, a soft languid sigh sounding as her body gave one last tremor before his mind rolled hers under soothing her into the stupor of sleep. Brahms swept her legs up and effortlessly he carried her slight form in his arms

It would be no simple task to woo this tempestuous virago, even MORE daunting was the task of teaching her WHO she had been and not just to him alone. Silmeria had been the first to see and accept the truth, to seek knowledge that was forbidden, to cross the lines that had never been crossed, and willing to fight for what is right rather than what was popular. Silmeria had been a radiant, chaotic soul on the 'wrong side of history' not because she was a 'rogue' Valkyrie that had been 'tainted by the undead' but because she had been a vessel of change ever in service to the greater good even if that meant breaking the laws governing the universe.

Brahms had loved her for it and nothing broke his heart more than to see her living her life as she did currently, as a mere 'shade' of her former self. How Odin must've laughed and smiled and preened to see this girl growing up bowing and scraping amongst the lesser races, a mere mortal slip of a girl who gave her every last breath and very being to worshiping him. The mere thought was enough to make him snarl, his lips peeling away to reveal his fangs - Odin had had his 'games' and played with SIlmeria like a doll but now retribution was at hand, at long last and once Brahms was done it wasn't going to be to Odin's liking.

The massive doors shifted with a groan as a barrage of battering echoed and finally culminated in a decisive clap like thunder even as Brahms felt the vibration of the colossal behemoths shifting under the weight over over a dozen men. Brahms tucked Renata's frame securely against him, his bulk enough to shield her in totality as some charged and others nocked arrows in their bows. Brahms knew enough to know that he was alone and still could place these men in their graves, bathe himself in a torrent of their bloodied remains but also that these men would died heroically against the Vampire King, be recruited by the Valkyrie, and even one day nurse a vicious grudge. If being Immortal had taught him one thing it was to choose your actions and enemies carefully, tactfully, and with intent. Brahms had nothing against these men and didn't have a care about ANY of them unless they got in his way.

The wind whistled as the archers released their rain of arrows and Brahms danced deftly, avoiding each save ONE which nearly hit Renata and would have IF he hadn't put up his arm to guard her, the arrow piercing his forearm and drawing a sharp hiss, the arrow searing as corrosive burns rippled out from the entry wound. No doubt they'd been blessed, dipped in Holy Water, enough to leave a wound that would fester if not removed swiftly. Brahms crimsons eyes narrowed maliciously on the archers, the perpetrator was easy to single out, smug and self-satisfied mere moments before Brahms furious gaze locked on his, ripping the male's free will with ridiculous ease. The archer dropped his bow and started striding forward as entranced, his allies wasting a moment on his bizarre actions even as Brahms tore through the window, glass shattering as he safeguarded Renata, stealing away with his prize into the night as he left the Archer to follow him to his death for daring to threaten Silmeria, HIS Silmeria.

* * *

Zadkiel had known something was amiss from the moment he'd seen the 'fell' sigil awakening beneath their very feet, portenting ominously of the destruction yet to come. Zadkiel's instincts, fine tuned as they were towards survival, fueled his impulse to withdraw his forces from the field but the King, to his stubborn detriment, REFUSED to even consider what he thought a retreat. In truth, the King was NOT considered the wisest or just of rulers which he resulted in years if not DECADES of plots to overthrow and replace him FIRST with his younger brother, Aedan and then with Renata. Aedan's death had been an unfortunate loss, LONG attributed to the Undead but many suspected their irrational ruler had known of his brother's popularity and their plots. Following the death of the Crown Prince their King had been prone to paranoia and under the guise of 'protecting' Renata had ordered that she be raised in the capital city under his ever-watchful gaze.

_More like protecting HIMSELF…_

Zadkiel thought bitterly that it was the SOLE reason Renata had garnered any interest OR support following the death of her parents, the King having ZERO interest in his niece save what she could do for him. Whispers were even abound that the King was sterile as he'd NEVER produced any 'child of the blood' which left Renata as the only heiress to the throne, the only way to continue his royal line. This fact had only made the King despise her more, a feat as he barely concealed his distaste or disregard for her. If the King had been smart he would've realized that loving her would have endeared her eternally to her 'surrogate' parent but his distant estrangement between them only sowed discord as many believed Renata should rule once she had come of age. Only the fear for her 'well-being' and Renata's respect of her King's 'right to rule' had kept many an impulse in check; half out of fear that the young Crown Princess would meet a fate similar to that of her beloved deceased Father.

Never before had he'd been more privy to their ruler's outright disaffection for his own blood. Even now he stripped her of his elite protection, a mandate that he'd NEVER failed to fulfill, choosing instead to entrust her safety and that of his despised wife to a multitude of common soldiers. I had been for that reason he'd summoned Ragne, his half-brother. Secretly Ragne lived on the fringes of Zadkiel's life, acknowledged publicly as a scholar of import but in truth he was magus of considerable skill and ambition. Many hadn't even known he had a brother as Ragne was buried, a societal pariah, the 'dishonorable fruit' of his mother's 'rape' in Flenceburg. Only Zadkiel knew the truth, that his noble mother had despised her noble spouse and Ragne was the result of her 'freedom' upon his death.

Though leery of Ragne's magical prestige he wasn't above making use of his skill believing it was not an ability but rather how you utilize an ability that decided its intent and whether it was evil or not. Outwardly Ragne was considered to be an 'healer' in service to Eir but Zadkiel knew his intellectual hunger went further than the mundane and humanitarian which is why he kept him near, kept him close, to advise.

"What is it?"

"Let me put it like this…when this spell is finished, I would not advise standing within it whether human or Undead…"

"Can you locate the Caster?"

"I could…" he said almost casually, "the question is would the intel be of any use to you if you lack the requisite time to do anything about it. I advise you to retreat."

"The King, in his wisdom, won't ORDER a retreat," Zadkiel not bothering to hide his bite of sarcasm

"Poor simple soul...HANG the King. Do you think you will be BETTER off if your army is fried by magic? I assure you the KIng will pin his failures on you, you will be RUINED and even the Princess won't be able to save your hide, no matter her infatuation."

Zadkiel knew Ragne was right, the ONLY way they could stop the mage was if they were faced with him RIGHT NOW. If they stood their ground their forces would face catastrophic casualties which WOULD be heaped upon him if it came to his word against the King's.

_Better to ask forgiveness than permission._

Zadkiel signaled the retreat even as he ordered Ragne to 'shield' the area with a counter-cast in the interest of minimizing their damages both in manpower AND structurally. When the spell sparked, further igniting the battlefield with chaos he was GLAD he'd listened to Ragne over the King - the loss of life had been mitigated but now the true tasks remained, recovery AND revenge, there was NO WAY this insult would go unanswered! Zadkiel KNEW that Renata, with a temper matching the blazing inferno of Muspelheim, would order a recompense of blood and fury once they'd licked their wounds. Only he wasn't counting on their losses being as 'dear' TO HIM as they were. Not believing the KIng would safeguard Renata faithfully he'd sent his best and brightest to secure her safety but even now they returned, looks grave and that was ALL Zadkiel needed, his heart dropping into his chest, "RENATA?!"

In his distress, he completely forgot and dropped the honorifics that society dictated, adopting the familiarity that he and his Princess had adopted between themselves.

"Lost, My Lord," his eyes closing even as his brow furrowed, jaw clenching as he swore a thousand upon thousands of curses upon the damned invaders, "she has been taken," that last jolting him out of his thoughts, the male uncharacteristically dumbstruck.

"What?"

"A vampire, an Elder of considerable strength, attacked the retinue dispatched to protect the Royal Family, their losses were absolute, not a man left standing. The Queen is dead and the Princess, she has been taken, there was nothing we could do."

"WE GO AFTER THEM!" Zadkiel snarled, "THAT is what we DO!"

"NO! You've, done, ENOUGH!" even as the King eyed Zadkiel with barely restrained fury, "I told you...NO retreat, not a STEP, no surrender and you have allowed these  _VERMIN_  to steal into MY home, killing MY beloved and taking MY niece, MY Heir, MY child. Your. Time. Is. DONE! We will wage war upon the Undead for this but you, YOU, will NOT partake of the glory, in the years to come you will not even be a FOOTNOTE in history OR of Odin's Blessed Legion. You are relieved of duty, some OTHER will rescue my niece's soul for because of YOU she is surely DAMNED!"

It took EVERYTHING in Zadkiel not to lash out, it would've been so supremely simple and fulfilling to cut down the King for the unfairness, the hypocrisy of it ALL but Ragne came to his salvation, an arm placed upon his even as he warred not to draw his blade from his scabbard and condemn himself to death here and now. If the corrupt, deluded KIng didn't want his service than THAT was fine, Zadkiel never wanted to serve him but rather the Gods and the Queen that Renata would have been. If Renata was untainted, unturned he could STILL rescue her and realize that dream even if it was never him at her side AND if the opposite was true, he could still serve her and the Gods by putting her to her final rest. His hand released its grip upon the hilt, allowing it to slide back into place, even as he untied the heavy weight of the blade and scabbard from his side and allowed the ornate blade to slam in the mud between him and the King, eyes never blinking as he left accompanied by Ragne on his tail in UTTER silence.

Zadkiel was NOT done, this was NOT over, it was only beginning. Zadkiel NEEDED a means to track the undead, to figure out their daylight haunts, and attack them where and while they were vulnerable. It wasn't something he could expect to fall easily in his lap except it did. The former soldier so preoccupied, embarrassingly so, with his musings that he wasn't paying attention as he wandered across the 'fringes' of the battlefield where there was no shortage of human bodies and ashes, the sun having disposed of the Undead except for ONE. At first Zadkiel thought he'd stumbled miraculously upon a survivor, his boot colliding with her making her stir with a soft moan that broke through his reverie as he started down upon her only to catch the faint flash of crimson, her eyes.

Mouth contorting into a frown, sure that if he was currently armed he would have staked her with his blade and been done with her but his hand ghosted over where the comforting weight HAD been moments before. With how weak she was it would be a simple matter to pull her fully in the sun and let her burn but something made him refrain and he was startled to realize it was a sense of familiarity. Give or take a few years she looked alarmingly akin to Renata with only a few 'differences' to set them apart. Renata was tall, much taller than this slip of a girl, where their 'Warrior Princess' had been honed and perfected by years of selfless service to the Gods this girl was shorter, softer. Zadkiel did NOT fall for the ruse, sure that her 'kind' appearance was an inherent deception. Vampires were the most dangerous Undead BECAUSE looks were so deceiving. Her long blond hair the same hue if not a bit dirty but similarities halted there, her crimson eyes faint as they gazed up at him without really seeming to see him.

Indecision WARRED within him, his first impulse to put her down in spite of the strange yearning she summoned in him but it was replaced by cold, crude calculation -  _we can use her, she is ONE of them_. If they left her here, she would be found in time, she would be put to the sword and that would be that. However, there was opportunity here he could take her and use her to hunt down the Undead, to lead him right to the rest of her kind, to twist her into a tool to be used not unlike a parody, a perversion of how the Undead USED humans. In reflection it was spiteful but a fitting fate for one such as her as long as he didn't fall prey to her, to being used by her in the meanwhile and when finished he could discard her, put her down like the refuse she was.

Zadkiel pulled his gauntlet from his hand and shoved the rough leather into her mouth to gag her even as he pulled her into his arms, carrying her to safety even as he reasoned that it was NOT mercy that saved her but practicality.

* * *

Rufus gazed around the camp, anxiously inquiring about and after Alicia, he knew she had hated being left behind, being FORCED into a strategic role even as her people fought. After Dipan had fallen some had chosen to die naturally as mortals but MANY had embraced their 'second lives' choosing to accept immortality from the Undead, embittered towards the Gods and ready to devote themselves fully to vengeance for the destruction of all they had known and loved. Following Alicia's death, they had followed his lead even as Rufus struggled with her trust in him, so sure he'd fail her. Over time, as unwanted as the burden had been he'd shouldered the responsibility for her, to honor Alicia's memory until they could be reunited.

Those years had NOT passed easily as Rufus had been EVER disinclined to trust either Brahms OR Lezard. Lezard had NEVER ceased being an enigma and Rufus could not forgive Brahms for his deception, existing in secret within Dylan all their time together. Even more difficult to believe had been the promises those two offered him as incentive, for him to remain in rebellion with them against Odin. Eventually, in spite of his skepticism, that faith had been repaid. Rufus having been SURPRISED when Brahms and Lezard honored their agreements, their promises to him with Brahms providing considerable martial might to bring Hrist Valkyrie to her knees and Lezard using his forbidden knowledge to 'craft' a vessel for Alicia.

Alicia's rebirth and return had not signaled relief in him but rather even more worry, Rufus spent more time than not fearing for her safety, a feeling he could not place to rest until he saw her, taking her into his arms once more except she was missing. No matter WHERE he turned or WHOM he asked no one could seemingly divine her location and every time he was sent off empty-handed for all his queries, his fears increased tenfold. Finally infuriated with the runaround he directly approached Almedha.

The imposing vampiress was eternally frozen deceptively in her late thirties but in truth was much, much, MUCH older than that being alive for centuries if not millennia. Strategically she was a master of her art but frightening beyond belief, never being held back by sentimentality at the cost of her ambitions. Brahms having warned him personally not to cross her leading him to wander if Brahms himself considered her dangerous despite being her 'beloved son'. Unfortunately, there was no denying the femme fatale's ambitions as she was single handedly credited as the shadowy strategist that orchestrated the liberation of vampires from Hel's yoke of oppression while also maintaining their state of rebellion against Odin. There was NO denying that she was brilliant if insane to contemplate AND succeed against two Divines at once and maintaining a two-front conflict against them ever since. Currently she was speaking to Brahms who was engaged in some botched form of first aid while Almedha chastised him. The vampire gritting his teeth as he snapped an arrow first pulling out one end then the other before sealing the wound, covering it with a bandage, and casting the offending ammunition into the fire to burn. Somehow Rufus was NOT surprised by Brahms casual grasp of healing arts but WAS surprised when Brahms gestured for him to come forth, no doubt eager to cut off Almedha's maternal tirade. Almedha wasn't NEARLY so pleased, scowling as she bit her cheek to refrain from retort.

"Alicia, where IS she?!"

Almedha's eyes flared with renewed annoyance at his impertinent tone but she answered tersely, "Last I KNEW she abandoned her post with me in favor of fighting on the frontlines! She was last seen with her 'rabble' Of course THAT was before your PET Magus threw EVERYTHING into chaos. Do you realize HOW MUCH we LOST with that stunt of his?!"

Almedha turning her attention back from him to Brahms, truly seeming furious at him for a change though Brahms didn't seem to be paying her ANY mind, his attention seeming a millions miles from this room but even he said, "Alicia is missing?"

This time, Almedha seemed annoyed, like Alicia's well being was a subject that was beneath her notice, "I just TOLD you that! She isn't HERE meaning she must be there!"

Rufus felt a true sense of panic and rage claw through him, "We have to go get her!"

"YOU are more than welcome to TRY, as it is, WE are trapped here until nightfall…," Almedha's tone almost inviting quarrel which Rufus was about to indulge if not for Brahms' intervention, his massive fist colliding with the table space between them.

"Come nightfall, you WILL dispatch a force BACK to Crell Monferaigne," his tone a growl inviting NO defiance or insubordination as he spoke to Almedha then turned on Rufus, only his emotions for Alicia kept him from stepping back or betraying ANY sort of intimidation, "YOU will lead that force! The rest of the vanguard will start the journey, the return back home."

"You're leaving?" Rufus both furious and dumbfounded that Brahms would put Alicia in danger and leave her behind with only a 'token' force to infiltrate and fight the proverbial nest of hornets they'd stirred this night, "If it was Silmeria in danger you wouldn't turn your back and run away!"

Brahms rose with a snarl, the long table uprooted with one jerk of his massive arms and colliding with enough force it splintered into fragments that littered the room, the Vampire King making the table the target of his rage instead of Rufus even still he closed the distance between them until he was practically breathing down upon him, "You will be GRATEFUL with what assistance I feel fit to GIVE you. Thanks to Lezard's improvisation last night we LEVELED a mortal city, incurring great PERSONAL losses AND casualties. I have MORE to consider than Alicia's fate alone! My Vampires will NOT remain here as stationary targets where they will be left to the MERCY of an enemy that will have NONE for them and NEVER HAVE!"

It was the first time Rufus had even considered that Brahms had the weight of the race on his shoulders, a responsibility that he might even resent at times but still shouldered just as Rufus once had once for Alicia, for her people and reflected that perhaps he'd owe the Vampire Lord an apology but as he left his tense body language alone told Rufus that NOW was NOT the time.

* * *

Lenneth touched down in the midst of the castle noticing faint signs of battle, of conflict in halls never meant to be touched by battle let alone tread by the Undead. The stench, the blood, the bodies left behind bespoke of an Undead of considerable strength, a true threat -  _Brahms._

Lenneth had never had the 'pleasure' of meeting Brahms sure that if she did she would place him in his eternal rest and never regret NOR pity his fate at the hands of Hel within Nifleheim. Her sollerets touching down lightly upon the marble floor as she landed softly next to the Queen's prone form, a sad end to a long suffering woman. Lenneth gently placed her hand upon her brow, attuning to the faint resonance of her soul as she knew what she would hear, what she would see. Lenneth would be privy to the last moments of her life, usually they were moments of intense agony and suffering and Evadne was no exception. Blessedly, Evadne's physical death and suffering had been short-lived, the death blow that had killed her having been a mercy stroke as if the Undead cared, they lacked such tendencies towards mercy meaning simply they'd wanted her to die and quickly.

_-_ _Renata_ _…-_

_-So young…-_

_The Queen looking back on this girl that she had raised in near solitude from infant to girl, from girl to adolescent, from adolescent to young adult seeing Renata in all her highs and lows. Comforting and guiding her as a child, a daughter, a Princess, and thanking the Gods every day for giving her Aredhel's child to love since she'd never have her very own._

_-_ _So full of promise…yet…-_

_Lenneth almost feeling a 'strangeness' to the woman's thoughts , the woman desperately clinging to these emotional ties even as she crossed over towards the young woman, brushing her hair aside with remorse as she leveled a weapon against her. It left her in UTTER confusion, these actions belied by NO ill will, no concentrated intent of harm like the woman was being propelled forward devoid of free will, inescapable to stop what was unfolding before her with her own two hands. Evadne's final moments were spent warring against herself but finally, inevitably one side won. Evadne's thoughts turning to cold calculations as she hefted the weapon._

_She must meet her end, by my hand if nothing else, that is the will of the Gods…_

_Then agony TORE through her, wicked c_ _laws slicing through_ _her_ _gut before she could act upon that fated stroke_ _. Lenneth watched as Evadne gazed down seeing the red ruin of her chest mere moments before her eyes started to dim then went black as her grip upon the weapon loosened, her final words almost prophetic in a way._

" _Odin awaits…"_

Lenneth came back to her own mind as Evadne's last moments, last memories dissipated into nothingness. Odin would, in time, receive this soul. Lenneth gently drawing the soul from the empty husk and into her own being as she spoke directly to Evadne, "Meanwhile…wait within…"

A quick gaze around the chamber when combined with Evadne's memories made it clear to Lenneth that Renata wasn't here, she HAD been taken and it was for Lenneth to pursue the Undead for that soul. However, Lenneth Valkyrie was troubled, she was NOT a death goddess, it was NOT her responsibility for her to snuff out lives and Renata's death was clearly orchestrated, propelled forward but to what end? Why her? Why now? Why was her death SO necessary?

The Valkyrie attempting to bury these doubts as once more she unfurled her pale white wings and vaulted into the sky, unaware that she was being watched from afar, from the shadows. The mage known as Lezard Valeth smiling as he breathed in her scent, the pale strands held fast in his reverent grip as he vowed they would cross paths once more.


End file.
